


Playing Dangerous

by chloemagea



Series: Playing Dangerous [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Long-Distance Relationship, Long-Term Relationship(s), Mildly Dubious Consent, Past Relationship(s), Physical Abuse, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Sandor and Arya, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Series, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Smut, Triggers, implied SanSan, pre-war of the five kings, rape mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-03-22 00:26:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 44
Words: 138,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3708501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chloemagea/pseuds/chloemagea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years before the events of Game of Thrones, the highborn Xe Sisters of the Summer Isles visit Kings Landing as royal and protected guests. And Sandor Clegane finds himself fixated on the middle sister, only to realize this beauty might also have an attraction to him...for whatever reason.</p><p>This is a tale of lust, longing and borderline obsession that spans years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave me comments if you like and would like me to continue. 
> 
> The continuation of this story is dedicated to Cesca known as Kitsunemiyuki25 on Tumblr - We didn't know each other for very long but I will truly miss you.

It had been rumored that The Xe Sisters could silence a hall just by stepping into it. That even the strongest men would be rendered fools if one of the sisters so much looked his way, but Sandor Clegane didn’t believe the claims made by the lords and ladies when it came to their new guests in Kings Landing. He had seen women from Summer Isles before; Littlefinger even employed a few at his whore house. He only thought of these guests as little more high-born than bitches that he would have to hear the squeaking of, even worse because they were ‘royal guests.’ He didn’t know nor care about the details of why these girls were coming to Kings Landing, but he gathered that they had a wealthy father and rich friends were always important to The Crown and that his daughters only wished to see the ‘greatness’ of the capital.

He stood there next to the throne, stifling hot in his dog head helmet, Joffrey had ordered him to put it on. The foul little prince had said.

The youngest sister is about my age, I hear, and if she is pretty as they say I don’t want you and your disfigured face scaring her off.”

But even though he sweated in the hot confined space of his helmet did as he was told, he was a dog after all. He heard the queen as she let out a very fake sounding ‘ah’ as their guests arrived at court.

The rumors of their beauty had not been exaggerated; the eldest sister stepped forward. The first sister was thin with dark umber skin; her thick brown hair was braided down her back, and she was dressed in brightest of red silks. It was said that she rumored to be the same as Cersei, but she appeared much younger, her dark skin not giving away any hints of her age.

“King Robert Baratheon.” she said with a dusky accented voice as she bowed.

“Lady Ekua Xe, as beautiful as always” King Robert nodded with a touch of familiarity that made the queen lower her brow.

“I would love to give my deepest thanks to you and your family for allowing my sisters the most beautiful opportunity to see Kings Landing for the first time and for allowing us to stay here..” her brown eyes glanced up quickly. “At the beautiful Red Keep.”

“Anything for the daughters of Prince Obasi Xe.” The King said it was no secret that the Summer Isles were a fertile land known for its spices, hardwoods, exotic animals and most of all it’s gemstones, and Lord Obasi was one of the richest lords in the Isles an obvious reason as to why his daughters were so welcome.

“May I present my sisters...Asha...” Ekua said, motioning to her left at her youngest sister. She was a girl of no more than thirteen, brown haired, dark eyed and dressed in a gown of feathers. The young lady bowed, but her eyes struggled to look up at the royal family. The Hound heard Joffrey hum approvingly as he eyed the apparently shy young girl. He knew that such a delicate young lady should do everything in her power to try and stay away from the vile, young prince.

The oldest sister then motioned to her right, and Sandor’s eyes came to the middle daughter and for a fleeting second he, The Hound found himself stunned by the sight of her. She was the darkest of the three as if someone made her from the night. Black hair that hung in long, thick braids, ebony skinned, eyes like polished onyx, she was dressed in purple silk with thick golden rings decorating her long neck. Sandor stared at her from behind the metal of his beast helmet, relieved that she couldn’t see him as he leered at her. “And Imani,” Ekua said, introducing her to the royal family, she bowed gracefully and smiled exposing her perfect white teeth.

“I’m honored to be in your presence King Robert,” she spoke, her voice was light and honeyed. She looked over to the queen and smiled “and the presence of his royal family.”

Cersei gave a forced smile, giving her hollow words of welcome to the foreign women, but Imani’s dark gaze slowly slid over to Sandor’s large figure as he stood next to the prince. She raised one perfect eyebrow as she stared directly at him unaware that he was looking back at her and for whatever reason, her night-eyed gaze but a chill through him.

 ---

The next day was the usual joust for the entertainment of lords and ladies, but for Sandor, the competitions were only interesting if there was a good amount of bloodshed. He stood at his usual place beside the royal family, next to the queen's empty chair, it was rare for her ever to attend any of the entertainment that called for her to be around more people that were outside of her inner circle. He heard a sudden fit of laughs, and he glanced down to see two the two older Xe sisters ascending the wooden stairs of the stands. Imani held the bottom of her gown up, so she didn’t step on it, exposing her bangled ankles and ornate beaded slippers.

“This isn’t going to be what you think it will be,” Ekua said to her sister as they walked up the stairs. “It’s a rather bloody affair.”

“I know, we don’t have this kind of tournaments back home, and I want to watch,” Imani said with a smile, her eyes glancing up her eyes landing on Sandor, she blinked notice that he was the same man who she had seen in the strange dog helmet the other day. Her dark eyes wandered across the disfiguring burns on the side of his face, and she inquisitively tilted her head and lowered her brow with the expression of a gray question of “What happened to him?” Imani felt her sister tug at her arm as they found a seat two rows down from where Sandor stood. The men around them ogled them, but the girls didn’t seem to notice or didn’t care.

“Is this seat taken, my lady?” Imani heard someone ask from her right she looked smiled.

“No, it’s not Lord Baelish.” she smiled, scooting over.

“I’m surprised you know who I am.” he said as he sat next to her.

‘Oh, now it would be silly for me to come all this way and not know who the Master of Coin is.” She tilted her head as she looked at the Lord, ignorant that one of the most feared men in Kings Landing was eyeing her. He wondered if she knew the type of snake Littlefinger was, or maybe like most gilded maidens that dreamed of coming to the capital she was blind to how horrible of a place it could be. The joust was about to start, and Imani perked up with genuine curiosity.

“I take it this is your first time seeing a joust.” Lord Baelish said.

“Yes, it is,” Imani smiled, playing with the gold necklace at her neck that bore what the people of Westeros would call her house sigil; a panther, although they symbolism of animal associations with family were different to them. The Knights readied their lances, and then their horses took off. Imani watched with wide eyes and interest as they stuck out their wooden lances they hit each other but neither fell from their horse.

“Aw.” she pouted in slight disappointment.

“Expecting more violence?” Lord Baelish asked.

“Well, a bit. I heard stories that game and sport in Westeros are some the most violent in the world, I’m curious.”

“I’ve noticed,” he said with a smirk, eyeing her as she looked back to the joust. The Knights went at each other again, yet no one fell and the crowd groaned.

“Tell me, Lord Baelish, if you had to pick the most interesting person here who would be?” she asked. Baelish stroked his chin at the question and thought about it.

“Here? Right now, well, minus myself, I would say The Hound.”

“Who?” she asked with raised eyebrows. Littlefinger glanced over his shoulder, and so did Imani.

“Ah, that explains that terrifying helmet,” she smiled, turning back around. “He is honestly the biggest man I’ve never laid eyes on.”

“Aye, he is terrifying, but I would say clear of my friend Sandor Clegane,” Littlefinger whispered as he took the liberty to sweep one of her long braids behind her ear.

“Oh, Lord Baelish no need to worry about me. I just like to hear about interesting people is all.” There was a sudden loud crash, and Imani gasped when she saw that one of the knights had fallen from his horse a sharp wooden piece from his opponent lance and found an opening under his helmet and gone through just under his jaw bone. He twitched and gurgled blood in the dirt. Imani blinked, her mouth dropping open in shock as two men came out and dragged the dead knight's body away.

“My, they were right, your knights are positively brutal.” she whispered, putting her hand over her mouth, Ekua let out a snort and rolled her eyes at her sister's words.

“And I get the feeling that you’re interested in that sort of thing,” Littlefinger whispered to her, causing the beauty to laugh and shake her head

“Oh Lord Baelish I’m interested in a lot of things.”


	2. Chapter 2

Imani combed her little sisters tightly coiled hair in the morning, as a breeze came through the high window, carrying the smells of the Kings Landing. Garlic, rum, and incense, the sweet smells were also mixed with a unique stink of foul odors.

“I think Prince Joffrey likes me,” Asha said, wincing as the comb caught on a knot and pulled at her tender headed scalp.

“Why do you say that?” Imani asked, dipping her fingertips in a bowl of oil and applied it to the ends of Asha’s hair.

“I told him that I’m good with a bow, he wanted me to show him, I did, and he seemed impressed,” Asha said looking at herself in the mirror. She favored her eldest sister Ekua more than Imani, having the same high cheekbones, round eyes, and a very defined cupid bow at her full upper lip. “He seemed really impressed when I told him that I’ve hunted with father and killed things,” Asha added. Imani paused at her little sister's words.

“That is rather strange.” she said, smoothing down the wispy hairs that grew from her sister's crown.

“I thought so too.” Asha uttered, her tone as impassive as ever. Out of the three sisters, little Asha was known for being the coldest, lacking her older sisters charm, wit, and humor. “Here they force their women to marry whoever they say,” she tilted her head in honest, youthful puzzlement. “Why?” she asked.

“Different places have different customs and traditions. We have to respect that because we would want them to respect us and the things we believe.” Imani spoke with a smile. The people of Westeros were a unique bunch, and even though she was intrigued by them because of the books she read and exotic stories she heard as a young girl, yet she still couldn’t understand them when it came to how they treated their women.

Just then the door to the room opened, both sisters looked over to see the queen. When people in the Summer Isles talked Cersei Lannister, they referred to her as the “Golden Queen of the Seven Kingdoms”. There was no denying her beauty, but there was also a bitterness about her. The contempt of a woman who had tasted the best wine, worn the finest jewelry, gone everywhere, seen everything but was disappointed in life itself and the falseness of the human experience. She was escorted by her twin brother, Ser. Jaime Lannister. He was said to be the most handsome man in all of the Seven Kingdoms, but Imani found his golden beauty so be far too gentle to make her swoon. He was pretty, but she preferred her men a bit more rugged and less seemingly dull.

“Your Grace,” Imani said as she curtsied. Her sister slid off her chair and bowed in respect as well. Cersei gave them a forced smile and then looked to Asha as if studying her with her narrowed eyes, trying to discern if the young lady from the sun-kissed Summer Isles was good enough for her oldest boy.

“Come here, my brown flower.” The queen requested, of Asha and she stepped forward without any hint of nervousness that Cersei noted. “I hear you are enjoying the company of my son.”

“Yes, your grace.” she nodded.

“That’s lovely to hear.” the queen spoke, Imani couldn’t tell if she was genuine or not. “Why don’t you run along, darling. I would like to talk to your sister a bit.” Asha looked back at Imani wanting her sister’s approval more than she cared about the queen's request. Imani nodded, and Asha bowed to Cersei again before she left. Cersei walked over to the table in the center of the room and sat down.

“Would you like wine, your grace?” Imani asked.

“Yes, that would be lovely.” The queen responded and Imani picked up the pitcher of wine and the cups and sat down across from Cersei.

“You know your father attended mine and Roberts wedding,” Cersei took a drink of the wine, and the sides of her lips twitched up in what seemed like an honest smile. “As a gift, he gave some of the most beautiful diamonds I have ever seen, they were loose, so I could have them put into any jewelry I wanted. Out of all of the gifts, I got that day, that one was one of the most thoughtful.” she took another sip of her wine and looked back over to Imani. “You’re not married are you?”

“I’m not,” Imani said before taking a drink.

“How old are you?”

“I’m twenty.”

Cersei’s eyebrows went up; she could have sworn that Imani couldn't be any older than seventeen. “How have you not found a match by now?” Imani slightly chuckled and shook her head.

“Well, we tend to wait a bit longer, why rush into marriage when there’s so many other things to taste in the world,” Imani spoke, and saw a look flutter across Cersei’s face. It wasn’t disgusting, nor judgment, but rather envy for the culture that the Xe sisters were born into.

 

* * *

 

Imani looked out to the narrow sea, squinting her eyes at the sun and then put her hand up to shield her eyes from the yellow light.

“My lady,” she heard someone call from behind her, she turned around and then a surprised smile came to her face. She knew he was the moment she saw the man that they called 'the imp.'

“Lord Tyrion.” Imani curtsied politely as the small blond man who was dressed in red and gold approached her.

“I'm pleased that such a beautiful woman knows my name." He said, taking her hand and kissing the top of her knuckles.

“They told me you were charming, and here I was thinking that they were joking.”

“Well, I’m glad you heard all good things about me,” Tyrion said the corners of Imani’s full lips quirked up, and she raised one of her dark eyebrows.

“You sure they were all good things, my lord?” she asked, sounding amused and Tyrion smirked at her words.

“Will you walk with me, my lady?”

“Of course.” The two of them casually strolled in the warm, orange light.

“I’m curious what other things have you heard about me?” The Lord asked.

“That you’re a drunken, lustful, little leacher.” Tyrion looked up at her to see if her expression was serious, it wasn’t. “Oh my Lady, stay away from Tyrion Lannister, who knows what he might try to pull,” Imani said, putting her dark, delicate hand to her chest in mocking faux innocents. Tyrion let out a laugh at her words. “Yet, they failed to tell me how handsome you are, though.”

“My, you are just as charming as you are beautiful.”

“Oh, now you’re just being too kind, my lord,” Imani smiled, sweeping one jet- black braid behind her gold cuff decorated ear.

“So why did you and your sisters come to Kings Landing?” Imani let out a huff and tilted her head to one side, her eyes darting up to the blue sky.

“Do you ever just yearn to see more?” she asked with a light and almost whimsical tone.

“I know the feeling very well.” Tyrion nodded.

“When I was a young girl, I read books about Westeros, the Targaryens, the dragons, your warriors with their steel armor and long swords,” Imani looked around with an adoring smile. “I wanted to see it myself.” she shrugged her bare shoulders. “So why not?”

“And you don’t have to worry accommodations; the crown loves its rich friends,” Tyrion noted, causing Imani to snicker and nod. “Wait, I have an idea.” Imani looked down at him and raised her eyebrows anticipating what he was going to say. “You’re from one of the richest families in the Summer Isles, and I’m from the richest family in Westeros, and we both are ridiculously good looking, so we just should just get married right now,” Tyrion said playfully causing Imani to let out a breathy giggle.

“Oh please, I can’t marry a man from Westeros, you all are obsessed with your brides being virgins, a thing I will never understand personally.”

“That doesn’t matter to me,” Tyrion said with a smile.

“Ah, well then I’ll think about it.” Imani laughed, obviously just being lighthearted. They went to turn a corner, but as soon as they did Imani let out a surprised yelp as she bumped right into someone. Instinctively her hands came up, her warm palm registering the feeling of cold metal against it. She blinked up and saw The Hound. Sandor looked down at the young lady, and those few seconds he took in her features, her upturned eyes, black eyes, short soft nose, supple full lips. Sandor’s eyes dropped to her two delicate hands that were still pressed against his chest.

“Pardon me, Ser.” She breathed, removing her hands quickly.

“I’m not a knight,” he said lowly. Tyrion made a quizzical face as he looked at Imani and then back to Sandor.

“Oh well, silly me,” Imani smiled, taking a step back and twirling one of her long braids around her thumb.

“This must be a first for you Hound; you didn’t frighten her. Most of the time the ladies take off in the other direction when they see you.” Tyrion chuckled expecting Imani to laugh.

“Why do they call you The Hound?” she asked him, completely ignoring Tyrion. Sandor raised his eyebrow at her, confused as to why the high-born picturesque beauty would even care.

“I protect Prince Joffrey,” he said, watching her blink in confusion.

“So you protect him and yet he calls you his dog?” Imani asked, honestly bewildered as she caught her bottom lip between her teeth and cocked her head. “I’m sorry, it must be a cultural thing that I don’t quite understand,” she smiled sweetly and shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I must get going,” Imani glanced down at Tyrion. “It was lovely talking to you, my lord.”

“I enjoyed your company as well.” Tyrion nodded. Imani’s onyx gaze slipped back over to The Hound.

“Sandor.”

“My lady,” he said before she turned and walked away. He couldn’t help but to stare at her supple bare back as she made her way down the hall, defined shoulder blades and the indentation of where her spine sat. Even from behind, she was easy on the eyes. Sandor grumbled, feeling Tyrion’s sight on him.

“What, Half Man?” he snapped.

“Did you not notice how she ignored me to talk to you? Or did I somehow to imagine that?” Tyrion asked as he straightened one of the rings on his small finger.

“Maybe she just doesn’t like small cocked dwarves,” Sandor had grunted before he walked away. Tyrion stood there for a second before snickering to himself.

“Or maybe she just likes dogs.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I like slow burns, sorry.

Imani had heard about how King Robert spent gold like it was water, and the recent festivities didn’t seem to faze the Kingdom or its lords and ladies. As if they were just used to duals, tournaments, and feasts, and it wasn’t for any particular reason, just that the king wanted to drink and laugh because he was bored. But none of the three sisters complained, all of them cheerful and enthralled by the things to and see in King’s Landing, but Imani was the one that was enjoying herself the most.

Sandor’s eyes followed Imani when he saw her as she walked alone towards the open area where the duels were to take place. Even in the orange and yellow light of the afternoon, her hair didn’t hold any hint of hue other than pitch black. A few young men looked at her as she passed by, but she didn’t seem to even notice them and their slack-jawed gazes.

“Admiring from afar, Hound?” he heard Tyrion speak. Sandor rolled his eyes and looked down at the dwarf who was already drinking wine. Tyrion took a sip from his golden goblet and then nodded back over Imani, who was now talking to a young knight who would be completing in the duel. Ser. Elis, a recently knighted young man who fancied himself the best thing with a blade that the capital had ever seen, as most young, egotistical knights believed. Elis took Imani’s hand and kissed it, in a show of chivalry that all the other maidens would have melted at.

“Not everyone thinks with their cock like you do, Half Man,” Sandor said still eyeing Imani as listened to the young man talk to her; he was flashing his new shining armor in an attempt to impress her.

“Why do you have to be so hateful? I’m just trying to have an honest conversation between --’ he was going to say playfully ‘friends’ until the Hound shot him a dirty look. “..between acquaintances,” Tyrion smiled casually. Sandor’s mouth parted to speak until he saw Imani walk towards them. Squinting her black eyes and putting her hand up because of the high sun. He thought she would simply walk past, but the brown beauty dressed in bright yellow and peacock feathers headed towards them with a smile.

“My lady, you are looking ravishing,” Tyrion said, causing Sandor to roll his eyes.There was nothing more sickening than watching someone he didn’t really like be ‘charming’.

“Thank you, my lord,” Imani smiled sweetly.

“Those boys are fluttering around you like gnats,” Sandor said, looking back at the young knight in his armor that was catching the sun as he now chatted with a few other men. Imani laughed and shook her head dismissively.

“Boys you say?” She tilted her head inquisitively with a twitch of her eyebrow, and Tyrion smiled as he watched them interact.

“Most of those knights in their new armor are nothing but boys, boys that will compete today for gold and will die today.” he said, and Imani stared at him from up under her thick, full lashes and curled her lovely mouth into a mischievous smirk.

“How do you know that they will die today?”

“Because if they’re up against me, I'll be the one to put them in the ground,” Sandor spoke, surprised that she didn’t quiver in fear only biting her bottom lip. Tyrion took a sip of his wine, his eyes still bouncing between the Lady and The Hound.

“I offer you my luck, may you strike them hard and true.” she said, without a hint of apprehension in her voice.

“I always do,” Sandor grunted, watching as she twirled one of her thick braids around her thin, delicate finger. Imani raised one of her eyebrows, licking her lips before she curtseyed and walked away.

“Please, tell me that you realize that she’s flirting with you,” Tyrion said, looking up at The Hound, who only scoffed at his words with utter dismissal.

“No, she's nice because that is expected of girls like her.” Tyrion finished his wine and shook his head.

“You are so wrong, there is only one reason a woman bites her lip at a man..” he put his finger up to emphasize the point. “If she wants him to fuck her.” The dwarf said before strolling away while whistling ‘The Rains of Castamere.'

  
\----  
Imani gasped, leaning forward with completely enthralled as she watched the duels. Most of them had been engaging, yet none of them had ended in death. Most men yielded when they realized they had lost.

“Ser. Elis of the Silverhill!” The announcer called presenting the young knight. Ladies clapped as soon as he walked out, waving and show-boating for the eyes of the beautiful girls that swooned over him.

“He’s rather good looking,” Ekua whispered into her younger sister’s ear.

“Mm, if you like boring things.” Imani uttered back.

“Sandor of the House Clegane.” The announcer called again, and Imani sat up a bit straighter seeing him step out wearing that unique black dog helmet. She bit her lip, as he pulled out his sword.

“That is a terrifying man I have ever seen,” Ekua said, watching as Ser. Elis also unsheathed his glinting blade. A smile came creeping across Imani’s lips as they started to fight. As soon as it started, Imani knew that he would make good on his promise to put whoever he fought that day on the ground. Ser. Elis had quickness on his side, but it was obvious he lacked training. The crowd gasped, watching Ser. Elis swing at The Hound only to miss. He brought up his shield and blocked a swing that would have cut through his shoulder if it wasn’t for his quick reflexes. Imani heard some ladies behind her gasp in horror as Sandor swung at him again. The young knight backed up and almost fell backward, but he caught his balance. Sandor glanced up quickly and saw Imani as she sat in the stands watching, her unique face stood out in the sea of pale. Her full lips were parted, black eyes wide, leaning forward with, her expression was with interest or terror, it was impossible to tell really. For a split second he thought about sparing the young man, he would bleed of course be he didn’t have to kill him, but that thought was gone as soon Ser. Elis opened his mouth between pants.

“You ugly fuck,” he hissed, raising his sword again, too stupid to realize that The Hound was only toying with him and that his mouth had dug him his own grave. Sandor gritted his teeth and brought up his blade again, and nothing could have saved young Ser. Elis, because before he could even react Sandor’s steel sword had found its way into the side of his neck.

People screamed, and lovely maidens cried out as the young knight twitched, blood spurting from his neck, his head barely still attached, and then the body that had been Ser. Elis dropped to the ground in a bloody heap. Imani started at Sandor as he pulled his helmet off, her hands gripping the fabric of her dress, her chest rising and falling as she panted. He was like the warriors she read about so many times as a young girl, and she always had an attraction to very dangerous and exciting things.

* * *

 

He hated feasts, especially the ones that had no purpose other than simply King Robert wanted one. It was all ass kissing, and shit talking, to him. Being in such close quarters with the lords and ladies while they drank and laughed fakely made him cringe. Made even worse by the fact that when he was on duty, he couldn’t even enjoy the food that they were shoveling into their faces. The only thing that gave him any entertainment was watching Imani from afar. She was talking to a few notable women, standing there with a wine glass in one hand, while she moved her hips in a snakelike dance. The ladies attempted to reenact the movement but couldn’t move as she did.

“My lady,” Imani heard someone say from beside her, she turned around and smirked.

“Ah, Lord Varys,” she said, offering her wine cup to a servant for refilling. “The famed Master of Whispers.”

“It’s interesting to know that there are songs about me even in the Summer Isles.” He said, casually.

“Of course, I know you have a few birds there too, seeing as it isn’t that far from your home city of Lys.”

“You’ve done your research, I see.” Varys said, they took a stroll through the crowed. “Are you and your sisters planning on staying to have a full seat at court? It would be lovely, seeing as we don’t see many foreigners here at court.”

“Must be hard for you,” Imani said looking around.

“Sometimes, they tend not to trust things they see as unfamiliar.” Varys nodded, it was true. People distrusted him for many reasons, but the most notable were the fact that he was a eunuch and foreign. “Your sister, the little one…” he looked over at Asha, who was sitting back in her chair, picking her nails, seeming detached from the festivities. Looking soft and childish in her orange gown, snubbed nosed and dimple-cheeked. “Is a lovely girl who, I've heard been spending time with Prince Joffrey, maybe young love is blooming?” he said, causing Imani to tilt her head back and laugh.

“Young love? You and I both know that love and attraction mean nothing here. They ship their daughters off to whoever makes the best offer. We don’t.” Imani took another sip of her wine and lowered her voice. “I know what Tywin Lannister is up to. They invite us to stay here at the Red Keep, to possibly plan a match.”

“Your sister would be queen one day.”

“Yes, and the Lannisters would have their hands in our jewel and gold mines and have control over land past the Narrow Sea.” Imani looked back over to her sister who was now talking to Prince Joffrey how had left his mother's side and slithered next to her. “It wouldn’t be because she loved him, it would be because she’s rich, has a high-born name and land in an area that isn’t controlled by Westeros already.” She looked back at the Master of Whispers.“And you and I also both know that young man will be a problem one day.” Varys’ expression softened at her words, and she could tell he agreed.

“I’m glad you’re not considering it; I don’t think it would be a good match.”

“I have nothing to consider, it wouldn’t be my choice, nor our fathers nor the Gods or Goddesses; that choice would be her’s alone.” Imani finished off her wine, and Varys glanced up to notice that The Hound was watching them, but his gaze only followed her as she got the attention of another servant and asked - not demanded for her cup to be refilled again.

“It seems that even hounds like to look at flowers.” Varys whispered to her; she blinked up to catch Sandor’s stare, and a wicked smile came to her lips. “I would be careful, my lady.”

Oh, Lord Varys what kind of trip would this be if I didn't have an interesting story to tell about it?” She smiled, with a wink before she walked away.


	4. Chapter 4

The night’s festivities were over, although there were a few people still drinking, most notably Tyrion Lannister, who would be drinking and whoring into early in the morning. But seeing as the royal family had retired Sandor’s duty as the prince's’ shield was done for the night. He rubbed the back of his neck as he walked down the hall dim hall, stopping when he glanced up and saw the tail end of a silk gown flutter by as someone turned the corner. He narrowed eyes and followed them; it wasn’t uncommon after a drunken feast for people to wonder about the Keep.

Imani stood in the Great Hall, looking at the famed Iron Throne, it had far fewer swords than she had read in all of her books but it was still a sight to behold. She hummed, her head slightly floating from the wine, recalling in bits and pieces a western song that people sang during the feast.

“A bear, there was a bear, a bear…” she uttered. Tilting her head to one side, trying to imagine her sister seated next to Joffrey as he sat on that throne but the image wouldn’t form in her mind. She couldn't even begin to imagine that because it just seemed so wrong. “They danced and spun, all the way to the fair.” Imani sang lowly, skipping most of the song that she couldn’t recall.

“Oh, sweet she was, and pure, and fair.” she heard from behind, startling her. She jumped and whipped around, one thin hand on her chest with wide eyes only to see The Hound standing there.

“You frightened me!” She giggled, the sound of her flowery accented voice was almost as alluring as she looked. The neckline of her yellow gown was low cut, making her mahogany cleavage visible, decorated with gold and feathers as if she were a bird of paradise. He took a step towards her, but to his surprise, she didn’t back away, staring up at him with her coal, shadowy eyes from behind her long soot colored lashes.

“You’re not frightened of me?” He asked, watching as she tilted her head to one side and smiled gently.

“No…” Imani narrowed her eyes slightly at him. “Are you going to hurt me?” she asked with a shrug of her bare shoulders. If he had been his brother, he would have done things to her at that moment. They were completely alone, and the petite beauty would have been helpless if he had taken advantage, but he wasn't his brother, and he didn’t lay a hand on her even though he wished he could.

“No, I’m not going to hurt you.” he said quietly, unable to help but notice as she bit her full bottom lip.

“I thought so.” Imani snickered, looking back at the Iron Throne.

“I could be lying. If you believe whatever someone tells you, then the capital isn’t the place for you.” Sandor said, in a low tone. Imai glanced back at him and shook her head.

“Aye, well, I’m an excellent judge of character.”

“You watched me kill a man today, and here you’re telling me you’re not scared at all. I say you’re a liar.” He spoke, but she only gave him a closed honeyed mouth smile; one that would cause other men to fall at her feet.

“Does it bother you that I’m not scared?” Imani asked, her eyes not wavering from his, not even to the burns on the side of his face. She was right; he was so used to people being terrified of him that when someone wasn’t it put him out of his element. The imp couldn’t have been right about her; there was no way that a woman like her would ever take any interest in a man like him. She was one of the most beautiful things he had ever laid eyes on; there was no way he could ever hope to touch her. Much like the other beauties, he had already consigned her to his fantasies.

“No, it doesn’t bother me, my lady. Nothing bothers me.” He lied lowly. His eyes dropped to her chest for a split second. Imani looked him up and down before stepping away, she stretched and stepped up on her tip toes as she let out a small yawn.

“It’s late.” She glanced at him from over her shoulder. “Do you think you could walk me to my quarters? I mean the Keep is so big, and I would hate to get lost.” Sandor stared at her for a moment, wondering in the back of his mind if she was suggesting what he thought she was but he quickly dismissed the thought. No.

“Fine, come on then,” he grunted. Imani smiled before following him. They didn’t talk as they walked down the hall, the only noise was the light musical chiming sound that she made due to her golden anklets. He could smell her as she strolled next to him, idly twisting a braid around her finger. She smelt how he imagined the islands would, like fruits that he had never had the pleasure of tasting. They came to her chamber door, and Imani looked over at him.

“Uh, I know it’s late, but would you like to come in for a glass of wine?” She asked, for the first time looking unsure, her eyes dropping to the ground for a second. He blinked, completely shocked at her offer. “I mean you didn’t get to drink during the feast so...I thought I would ask.” Imani pulled the door open slightly and eyed him expectantly. What man would turn down a woman’s offer to share a drink? He never turned down good alcohol period. He curtly nodded, and Imani’s lips twitched upward as she stepped in and followed. Imani strolled over to the circular table in the center of the room and picked up a glass pitcher. She poured two cups and handed him one; he lowered his brows still looking unsure. She blinked, glancing down at her laugh with a snicker.

“Ha-ha, when they told me that people here in the capital are suspicious of kindness I didn’t believe them.” She said before taken a long drink from her cup. He watched her gulp it down, a tiny bit of it dripping down her chin and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. Sandor kept his eyes on her as he then took a drink. Imani turned around and moved back to the table, refilling her cup. He stared at her as she swept her braided black hair to one side, exposing the back of her long neck to him. The raised ridges of her spine were visible as she looked down, her dark skin having a slight shimmer to it. In the capital they liked their women pale because that meant they didn’t work and more than likely highborn but it was different for the Summer Isle people, they didn’t put level beauty by skin shades. He diverted his eyes as she turned around and took another drink of her wine, looking completely relaxed.

“More wine, Ser?” She asked, her voice noticeably lower and smokier.

“I told you, I’m not a knight,” Sandor grunted, feeling his pulse pick slightly up when she grabbed the pitcher and walked over to him slowly, the right strap of her gown slipping down her shoulder slowly. He clenched his jaw as she filled his cup again.

“You know…” he stared at her full mouth as she talked. “I bet you could rip this dress clean off of me,” Imani said lowly, the wine running over from the top of his cup as she still poured it. “In one swift ya--” she was going to say ‘yank’, but Sandor dropped the cup, hit the stone floor and a second later he grabbed at her gown. He pulled it so viciously that the seams popped with a remarkable ripping noise. Imani gasped, the glass pitcher slipping from her grasp, causing it to shatter. Her dress fell to the floor at her feet in tatters. She bit her bottom lip and made no move to cover herself. The sweet smell of wine filled the warm air around them.

“Fuck,” Was the only thing he could say to vocalize what he thought at that moment. The last woman he had been with was a whore and the woman her before was as well and so on and so on. He always had to pay for it, women didn’t like to fuck hounds, but they would for coin. The last girl who touched him, not because she got paid to but because she wanted to had been a girl named Evelyn, who had lived on a farm near his family home, she had been his first. With her freckled face, milky skin and auburn hair, they fucked once in a barn, and no more than three weeks later she died of a fever and since her, he couldn't remember what it was like to be with a woman who wasn’t getting paid.

Sandor stared at Imani as she stood there, completely naked in front of him minus her gold jewelry. He took in her plump tits and her dark nipples, his eyes lowering to her flat abdomen, and narrow waist. He parted his lips with a small inhale of air once his gaze came to the tuft of black, curly hair between her alluringly thick thighs. He took a step towards her, but she didn’t back away, her breathing picking up a bit more at his closeness. He pulled one of his black leather gloves off and cautiously ran his hand down her waist, lowly groaning at the feeling of her marvelous, smooth, unblemished skin.

“Are you going to take me or are you just going to stand there and stare at me?” Imani whispered hotly her eyes blinked up at him. Sandor clenched his jaw, suddenly grabbing her and throwing her over his broad shoulder. She kicked her legs and giggled with the playfulness of kitten as he walked her over to the bed and plopped her down. A second later he was on her, burying his face into the hot curve of her neck.

“Fuck, you smell good, “ he growled.

“Mm, I know.” she laughed, feeling him slightly smile against her skin. He moved down, his mouth coming to one of her tits. Imani groaned and arched her back as he licked her nipple and the fondled the other with his large hand. Sandor moaned, feeling her wiggle and writhed under him. Imani hissed, feeling him move lower, raking his mouth along her warm, soft abdomen. He growled, brushing his nose along the tuft of coarse black hair at the apex of her thighs. Imani sat up on her elbows, panting desperately, her braids slumping forward to cover half of her face. Sandor parted her lower lips and chuckled to himself. She had the best-looking twat he had ever seen; he didn’t expect it to be so pink in stark contrast to her dark skin.

“Ah!” Imani yelped when he pressed his mouth against her. “Oh--fuck--” she hissed causing him to laugh slightly at the sound of such a beautiful highborn lady speaking so vulgar. She rested her hands on the cold shoulder plates of his armor as he lapped at her. Sandor had never wanted to eat a woman’s cunt until her; he watched her reaction when he raked his tongue along the swollen nub right above her slit. She gasped and rolled her eyes into the back of her head. “Yes--like that.” Imani moaned, grinding her hips with the rhythm of his tongue. She yelped, her legs quivering, and she cried said something in her native language as she tensed up and came, she shook with an aftershock before she smiled and plopped back down, panting for breath. Sandor raised his head and wiped his mouth.

“...My stars, I had no idea that men across the Narrow Sea would even dream of doing that.” she, said her eyes still half lidded in delight.

“Most men don’t,” Sandor stood up and started to unlace his pants. “I just wanted to taste that cunt of yours.” His words caused Imani to let out a hot fit of laughter at his obscene words.

“I’m enjoying that dirty talk, you should keep doing it,” she smirked, but then her eyes widened when she saw his cock. In her experiences, taller men seemed to have smaller cocks while the fellows on their shorter side always tended to be the surprising ones but Sandor Clegane had a cock to match his size. She had long ceased being a virgin, but even as an experienced woman she was slightly shocked. She went to open her lips to speak, but he grabbed her by delicate ankles and yanked her closer.

“What, are you nervous now?” He asked, with a lightheartedness that she didn’t expect as he grabbed the base of his cock.

. Imani smirked and licked her lips. “Do I look nervous do you, Clegane?” she purred, parting her legs wider.

“No, you don’t.” He breathed, rubbing his cock along her wet slit. Imani panted, in anticipation, wiggling desperately. Once again, she said something, not in the common tongue as he filled her.

“Seven Hells…” he uttered, she felt almost impossibly good, wet, warm and tight. Imani bit her lip, as he grabbed her hips and started to thrust.

‘Oh!--Gods!” she moaned, clenching the sheets. “Harder…”

“No.” He growled, knowing very well that he could hurt her, he was far too strong to get carried away with most women. The room smelt of sweet wine and the bed creaked with each thrust. She wanted to scream, and cry out his name but she knew that she would possibly wake the whole Red Keep, unfitting behavior for a guest, so she covered her mouth and mumbled. Sandor pushed one of her legs up, driving himself deeper, the sound of her anklet chiming with each thrust.

“Damn it, girl there--ah--is no reason for you to feel this fucking good.” He panted. Imani giggled from behind her palm, as her other hand gripped his armored forearm tightly. Sandor clenched his jaw, knowing that he was close.

He fucked her harder, desperate to finish now. Imani’s hand dropped from her mouth as she gripped onto the bed sheets. Sandor pulled out of her quickly, Imani moaned and licked her lips as he shot his cum on her belly. Sandor panted for breath as he looked down at the sticky white mess he made on her stomach.

“My stars, that was…” she stretched and yawned beautifully. “What the girls said it would be.” Sandor stood up and replaced his pants.

“And what was that?”

“That Westerosi men fuck like barbarians,” she grinned.

“Aye, you seemed to like it.” He said a small, satisfied smile coming to his lips. Imani giggled and grabbed one of the sheets and wiped his cum away with it.

“Mmm. Maybe.” Imani said playfully, rolling over on her stomach, his eyes dropped to the curve of her back and her ample ass. A shame he didn’t get a chance to appreciate it fully during their romp. “Fuck me again sometime?” she asked as he walked over to her chamber door. He looked back at her, and there was no way he would say deny her.

“Of course, my lady.” Sandor nodded before leaving her for the night.


	5. Chapter 5

Sandor was positive that the events of the previous night had actually occurred, and wasn’t just the vivid illusions of a dream, yet the oddness of it all caused him question fact. He wondered how it even happened, although he swore he could still taste her sweet nectar on his lips. Nervousness wasn’t an emotion he felt, he had killed and fought in battles, but just the thought of laying eyes on Imani the next day proved to make him slightly apprehensive. A hundred things could have gone wrong, what if she had changed her mind and came to her senses? Or even worse if she had been far drunker than he thought and the whole hazy incident had only been a reaction to the wine she had.

He heard a ring of high laughter coming from down the stone hallway in front of him; he glanced up to see a whole flock of highborn ladies walking the halls. They always traveled in flocks like birds, among the sparrows, there was the bright feathered outlier. She hadn’t seen him yet, looking to her right at one of the ladies as she smiled at something they said. He watched her walk as she strolled along with the group, remembering the unblemished, silky flesh that was underneath her bright blue gown. Imani glanced up as they walked past him, and the other girls ignored him as if he were not there. He watched as one of the yapping women, Lady Lollys, reached her hand out to touch one of Imani’s long black braids. Lollys went to open her mouth, possibly to compliment Imani’s beautiful locks, but to her surprise and Sandor’s Imani tapped her pale hand away.

“I’m sorry my lady, your hair is just so pretty....” Lollys said awkwardly, clearly not grasping how her actions could be seen as disrespectful.

“Thank you, but ask me first,” Imani said, not taking her eyes off of Sandor. Her tone still having the light, airiness to it that somehow made her words seem a bit underhanded and sharper.

“My apologies.” Lady Lollys uttered looking down, pink-faced embarrassment. Sandor tried his best not to look at her as they walked past, but he failed, seeing her onyx eyes glance him up and down. She gave him a wicked, knowing smile before she bit her plump bottom lip.

“Clegane,” she greeted, with a proper and polite, formal tone.

“My lady,” Sandor responded, giving nothing away, as she walked by leaving her sweet smell behind.

“Are you mad?” Lady Lollys asked Imani, glancing back at The Hound.

“No, I don’t think so,” Imani said with a smile and a shake of her head.

“Don’t talk to The Hound.” Lady Githa, at her right, said as she took Imani by her arm. “He’s a killer.”

“Aye, you saw what he did to poor Ser. Elis.” Lollys whined as if she would cry at the memory of the handsome knight that nearly had his head removed by Sandor’s blade.

“He’s so violent that he won’t even take the vows as a knight.” Lady Magge chimed from behind Imani.

“Has he ever done anything personally to any of you?” Imani asked as if she were interested in the gossiping.

“Well, no but he is still so scary,” Lollys said, putting one hand to her chest and rolling her eyes stupidly.

“He is the kind of man that you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark hallway.” Lady Githa whispered in Imani’s ear, causing her to finally laugh out loud at the silliness of it all.

“My ladies, the reason I greeted him was because he was so kind to escort me to my chambers last night after the feast.” The women looked at each other as of shocked. “I was rather drunk too, and if he is such a terror he would have taken advantage but, he didn’t touch me…” she said, leaving the rest of the previous night's events out.

“Huh.” Lollys granted as if she was blown away by the thought of him not being the kind of man that would take liberties with a young woman. Imani smiled sweetly, although she was starting to understand why some of the women at court were referred to as ‘squawking birds’ and why people called poor Lollys ‘Lady Dimwit.'

* * *

 

Sandor walked behind Prince Joffrey and little Lady Asha as they strolled through the palace gardens. Joffrey had demanded that his Dog wear his helmet when he was in her presence, stating that his face scared her, although much like her older sister, Asha didn’t seem too frightened of anything. He watched from stifling closed metal helmet, as the prince picked a marbled rose from one of the thorny bushes.

“Here my lady.” He smiled, handing it to Asha. Sandor stood there in silence, even though he felt an indescribable sickening feeling. He knew that behind Joffrey’s seemingly handsome and innocent smile there was a sick sadistic nature. He had seen Joffrey harm animals before, and laugh at others pain, and to watch him play the ‘charming prince’ with such ease to the girl was troubling, but it wasn’t a dogs place to question royals.

“Thank you, my lord,” Asha smiled, taking the rose from him, but it wasn’t the same warm, carefree look her sister had about her. Her expressions were far more narrowed, and almost calculated as if she were watching, studying the prince to see how he would react. She was feeling him out, testing the waters to see if he was the boy she wanted to marry, seeing as they didn’t sell their daughters to the highest bidder but, rather gave them a choice it was up to her to make her decision. Sandor couldn’t speak on the matter, although he hoped that in the end, the youngest sister would turn down the chance to be queen because it would be a matter time before she would replace the animals and would become the thing that Joffrey abused.

“Not as beautiful as you, my lady,” Joffrey said, reaching his hand out to stroke the back of her warm brown cheek as she held the rose to her budding chest. Sandor rolled his eyes from behind his helmet. “But I must be going now, princely duties” He spoke, and Asha nodded.

“Dog, escort Lady Asha back to her chambers for me.” He ordered of Sandor before glancing back at his possible intended. “I’ll see you later.”

“Goodbye, my lord.” Asha curtsied, politely watching as the Prince walked away.

“Come, small lady” Sandor said, ushering her down the other side of the path. They walked in silence for a moment until he realized that the girl child was looking up at him with an innocent curiosity.

“Why are you so tall?” She asked.

“I don’t know, my lady.”

“My sister told me that there are giants in Westeros, are you part giant?” Asha asked, and Sandor found himself fighting off a tiny chuckle at her absurd question.

“No, my lady.” He said, and she made what he took as a disappointed face.

“But there are giants here, right?” Asha blinked up at him, he glanced down at her and didn’t have the heart to tell the youngest Xe sister that giants were considered myths.

“Some say there is beyond The Wall.” He told her, as he opened the heavy door to the Red Keep and they both walked in.

“The Wall to keep out the White Walkers?”

“Aye, how do you know about that?” He questioned the child whose features were only a shade and hint of her sisters.

“Imani has all these huge books about Westeros she told me all about the legends on the way here. ” She said with a shrug of her tiny, bony shoulders. “Actually, Ser, could you just take me to sister,” Asha asked, now plucking the petals from the rose that Joffrey had given her.

“Of course, but I’m no Ser. I'm not a knight.” He told her as they walked up the staircase.

“Well, what I’m I supposed to call you?”

“The Hound’ is fine.”

Imani popped a plump grape into her mouth as she sat at the table in her quarters with Ekua.

“What did you do last night after I went to sleep?" Her older sister asked, as they relaxed but she had a prodding tone about her.

“Nothing just drank a bit and then went to bed.” Imani lied, picking up a fat, glossy plum from the bowl and bit into it.

“Unlike you to retire so early.” Ekua uttered, with a twitch of her eyebrow.

“Well, I was worn out.” Imani shrugged, wiping the plum juice off of her chin with the back of her hand.

“Mm-hum.” The elder sister grunted, and narrowed her eyes. They both jumped when there was a loud, strong handed knock on the door. Imani made a face and got up, fruit still in hand.

“Who is it?”

“Me.” She heard her little sister's voice from the other side, she rolled her eyes and walked to the door.

“How are you even knocking that hard?” Imani asked as she pulled the door open and was surprised to see Sandor with her sister, she blinked at the sight of him.

“The prince ordered me to walk her back,” Sandor said, noticing the confused look on Imani’s face.

“Did she do something?” Imani asked, only to hear a scoff from her sister.

“No, I didn’t,” Asha said as she walked into the room. Imani ignored her sister's snappy tone and leaned her head against the side of the massive door as she looked at him. He reached up and pulled his helmet off and wiped the sweat from his brow.

“Oh, well that was very nice of you, Sandor,” Imani spoke before lifting the dripping glossy, plum back to her lips and taking a small bite. And for a split fleeting second he mused on the events of the previous night as she stood there with that gentle smile, in the room that he had taken her in. He wished he could speak with her for a moment, but seeing as her sisters were there he couldn’t mention it.

“Just doing what I’m told, my lady.” He said curtly to her before he nodded and walked away. Imani had smiled to herself before she closed the door slowly.

* * *

 

The day ended, much to Sandor’s distaste he hadn't had an opportunity even to hold a conversation with her and the memories of last night still swam in his mind like ripples in a pond. The smell of her, the feel of her skin, and the taste between her legs. Now he was sure that having single one lapping drink of her was possibly worse than not ever enjoying her at all. He groaned as he walked to his quarters in lower and darker part of The Keep than where the royal apartments were. Sandor sighed in frustration, as he opened the door to his dim chambers. He clenched his jaw and rested his back against the door; it took him a second to realize that he wasn't alone. Acting on impulse and training, he reached for his sword, but a harsh, hot, giggle filled the room, he looked to his left and there lying on his large bed was Imani. She was lounging on her back, obviously naked, one beautiful dark brown leg bent, holding on to a large feather hand fan that shielded her breasts from his view. Imani tattered, some wicked thought playing in her eyes.

“Do you always like it this dark down here?” Imani asked, watching as his expression that grew darker as he stared at her. His eyes slipped up from her feet to her face and then back again.

“You’re a sneaky one, aren't you?” He uttered slowly, taking a step towards her.

“Aye, I had to be very cunning to find out where your chambers were without making things too obvious.” She smiled, fanning herself with the feathers. “Oh, my lady make sure you don’t go down that hallway,” Imani said in a high tone mocking one of the other ladies. “... that’s where Clegane stays.” She licked her lips and smirked.

“Drop that fucking fan,” Sandor growled, causing her eyebrows to shoot up in pleasant surprise, she did, and he hissed at the sight of her tits. He palmed his stiffening cock through the fabric of his pants as she stood up slowly from his bed.

“I've been all out of sorts today…” Imani said as she walked towards him. “I think it has something to do with what you did to me last night....” she reached out and put her hand on his chest. “You know this morning I touched myself and thought about…” Her hand slipped down to his crotch. “...This.” Before Imani could react Sandor grabbed her by the back of her neck and crushed his lips against hers. Imani giggled into his mouth as his facial hair tickled her face. He felt her nimble hands at his belt, undoing it quickly and it dropped to the stone floor. Imani grounded in what he took was agitation when she tried to undo the straps of his armor but couldn’t get it.

“Wait,” he panted letting her go, she bit her lip, watching as he undid the strap across his chest to his sword sheath and then the various buckles and other heavy metal plates. Imani sat back down on the bed looking up at him as he removed his armor.

“Isn't all of that heavy?” she asked, bumping her knees together impatiently.

“No.” He said removing the steel collar and setting it aside before he pulled off the leather and metal tunic and dropped it to the floor. Imani slightly wiggled her hips as she stared at him. Even without all of his armor, he was still formidable. Sandor finally pulled off the simple cloth tunic, and Imani’s lips parted with a pleased smile. He was all muscle, broad chested and strong-shouldered. Imani slowly stood up and stepped towards him, and then ran her fingers through the hair on his chest.

“You’re the hairiest man I’ve ever seen,” she whispered, causing him to chuckle. “I like it…”

He smiled, walking over to the bed and sat on the edge of it.

“Come here.” He said, and Imani moved closer to him. “Turn around.”

“Why?”

“I want to look at your ass.” His words caused Imani to giggle. She turned her back to him, hearing him let out a groan and then felt his large hand grab her right cheek.

“So do you prefer tits or ass?” Imani asked, feeling him slip his other hand up to her waist.

“I like it all.” He grabbed Imani by her thin wrist, turning her around to face him and then pulling her closer. She straddled his lap, and licked along the crook of his neck.

“Fuck.” He whispered as her hand lowered into his trousers, he bucked feeling her warm palm as she grabbed his cock and pulled it free. She lifted up, and he hissed, feeling how wet she was for him. Sandor watched her face, as she lowered herself onto his cock. She wrinkled her brow, her pretty mouth slightly parted, and her eyes fluttered closed. He would have taken her expression for one of pain if it weren't for her pink tongue darting out to lick her lips. Sandor growled, grabbing her hips and forcing her up and down on his cock.

“Seven hells, your cunt are so tight.” He moaned, slapping her ass.

“Oh--ah-- you flatter me.” Imani snickered, sweeping her braids out of her face.

He raked his teeth along the silky, smooth skin of her collarbone. Imani gasped in shock as he started to thrust up inside of her, holding her hips tightly, gnashing his teeth, as her plump tits bounced.

“Oh--my Gods!” Imani whimpered, grabbing on to his tone forearms tightly. “Ah---right there--!” She threw her head back and hissed between clenched teeth. He watched as her eyes rolled into the back of her head, saying something that he wasn't sure was nonsense or meant something in her native language. “Ah fuck! Ah--yes--yes!” She cried, her whole body tensing. He felt her tighten around him, squeezing his cock. He fucked her harder, faster, fixating on coming. He could feel the coiling in his lower abdomen.

“Fucking---fuck!” Sandor cursed breathlessly before he pulled out of her. Imani was quick to grab his cock and stroke him. Sandor groaned loudly, his hips bucking as he came in her hand, hearing her let out a pleased little sigh at the sight of hi cock pulsing and spurting in her fist. He huffed, and relaxed feeling completely exhausted. Imani slipped off of him and stood up, heading over to the wash basin that was sitting on a side table. He watched her as she cleaned her hands off of his cum and then picked her gown up off of the floor and slipped it back on. He really didn’t want her to leave but didn’t say anything, not know what to say. She turned to look at him, playing with her one of her braids almost bashfully.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” she said, walking to the door.

“Yes, my lady.”

Imani pulled the door open and then she was gone. Sandor lay there for a moment, his mind still reeling from her. He sat up and looked down, seeing the feathered hand fan that she had left behind.


	6. Chapter 6

Imani sat on the open window ledge in her quarters, book in hand as a breeze fluttered in. She shifted slightly, trying to concentrate on the words on the page, but there was a nagging that was relentlessly biting at her. She licked her lips, still feeling slightly sore from the other night when she snuck into Sandor's chambers. She chuckled remembering the look on his face when he saw her, laying on his bed. How surprised he had been to see her there.Imani pressed her thighs together, tightly savoring the ache that his cock had given her. He had duties, she had things she wanted to see and do while in the capital but still she yearned for more.

She had seen him earlier that day for a moment, as he walked with Prince Joffrey down the hall. His only recognition to her was a small twitch in the corner of his lips as he glanced at her impassively. Imani sighed, losing her place in the book, again. She squirmed , biting her full bottom lip, her mind going off in a daydream about him slipping his fingers in and out of her. She moaned, as she ran one hand up her silk covered thigh. The book slipped from her hand and landed on the to the stone floor with a smack. Imani parted her brown legs, thinking back to how good had been with his tongue. She pushed up her skirt, her hands inching closer to the apex of her thighs. Her nimble fingers brushed the coarse, black hair before slipping between her lower lips.

“Oh…” she whispered, feeling that she was already wet at the simple recollection of the two times they had touched. She ran her fingers down her slick entrance, inhaling sharply at the dull ache, but she found herself loving the sensation. Imani moved her fingers to the slightly swollen bud, rubbing gently, teasing herself at first. She wanted Sandor’s large hands all over her, imagining him pinning her down and fucking her hard. “Ah--” Imani rubbed harder, her other hand slipping up to grab her breasts, pinching her nipple through the smooth fabric of the gown.

Her hips bucked at the building feeling, and she clenched her eyes shut as to imagine things better. Recalling the feel of his cock as he fucked her the other night. Imani’s lips twitched, and she wrinkled her brow. So close. She was just about to moan his name when the sound of a knocking at her door ripped her from her midday fantasies. Imani let out an annoyed hiss she pulled her fingers from up under her shirt, in a hurry, she licked them clean as she got up and tried to look composed as she walked to the door. There was another knock and she rolled her eyes in agitation and utter sexual frustration.

“I’m coming!” Imani snapped, hurrying for the door. She pulled it open and in an instant the annoyed expression on her face softened. Sandor leered down at her as he stood on the other side of the door. He instantly noticed her jarring of her eyes, her softly parted coral painted mouth and how she looked like she was trying to catch her breath. For a second he glared at her, he could see the outline of her nipples through the gentle fabric of gown, he stopped himself from groaning. He was currently on duty and even though he wanted to have his way with her right then and there with the door wide open on the floor he couldn't.

“Yes?” Imani asked.

“Prince Joffrey, requests that your younger sister have supper with him and the queen.” Sandor said, keeping his eyes on her face even though they wished to  wander down her dark body.

“Ohh” Her word came out laced with disappointment. “Why didn’t you ask her if she wanted to?” She clenched her thighs even though she tried not to, he noticed.

“Out of respect such a request much be cleared with her elder, seeing as she’s not a true lady yet.” He said, and Imani raised her eyebrow. She thought of her sister a more than capable of saying ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to a simple dinner, but they did things differently than she was used to. “Seeing as Lady Ekua is out of The Keep, permission needed to come from you.” Her sister had gone that day to go visit a famed jeweler, in the city. A trip she herself was planing on making if she liked what her sister picked up.

“Ah, I see, but why didn’t the prince ask me himself?”

“Prince Joffrey is busy so he sent me.” Sandor spoke, taking a step towards her. Imani’s breathing picked up. “Your permission, my lady?"

“Yes, that’s fine... I will tell my sister that she is to have supper with royals tonight.” Imani said, lowly.

“If I may, my lady. Why are you all flustered?” He asked, looking her up at down.

“What?”

“You keep wiggling your fucking hips.” Sandor growled, watching her bite her lip at his words. Imani swallowed hard and then smirked.

“Take off one of your gloves, Clegane.” She requested, her voice just above a whisper. He did, Imani gently grabbed his hand and lifted the bottom of her dress and put his hand between her legs. His mouth dropped open slightly, as she put two of his fingers inside of her.

“Seven hells…” Sandor uttered, feeling how obscenely wet she was. Imani stood up on her tip toes, attempting to whisper in his ear.

“I was thinking about you….” Her words made him groan and he gnashed his teeth. “You have me dripping down my thigh--Ah--!” Imani’s sentence was cut off when he pumped his fingers in and out of her quickly. She arched her back and raised up on her tip toes even more.

“You better watch yourself, my lady. If I wasn't on duty I would have you face down on that bed while I fuck your cunt the hardest it’s ever been fucked..when I have you again that is exactly what I’m going to do. ” He said, his tone dangerous, but she wanted him to make good on that promise right then but she would have to wait. Imani winced when he pulled his fingers out of her and she stumbled to find her balance.

“You--you should get going…” Imani panted, curing him because now she was even more sexually frustrated than she had been.

“Aye, I should.” Sandor moved his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean of her honey, watching the almost agonized look play across her beautiful features.

“Until later, my lady.” He nodded, before leaving her yet fighting off his own feeling staring in his loins.

* * *

 

Little Asha plucked at her harp as she hummed a popular Summer Isle song. She looked up when the door opened and saw her older sister.

“You know, I’m insanely jealous of you.” Imani said with a smile as she walked over and sat next to her little sister.

“Why?” Asha asked with another pluck of the harp string.

“Because I can’t play the harp to save my live.” Imani chuckled and Asha laughed out loud, it was true for all of Imani’s charms she was horrible at the instrument.

“Well, at least you can dance.”

“Ha-ha at least.” she laughed, nodding her head. They sat there for a moment and Asha continued to play the strings. Imani stared at the side of her little sister’s snub nosed and dimpled face.

“The prince requests that you have dinner with him and the queen.”

“Ah,” her tone holding far more wisdom than a thirteen year old should have.

“Tell me, do you like him?” Imani asked, sitting back on her hands.

“I’m not sure, he likes me though,” Asha got up and walked over to the window ledge and looked out to the Narrow Sea. “I have a chance would be queen of The Seven Kingdoms.”

“Aye.”

“But I would have to leave home…” Asha sighed, narrowing her eyes.

“Yes, you would.” Imani nodded, hating the thought.

“If I was to marry the prince, would our island be ruled by him?”

“No,” Imani stood up and walked over to her and leaned against the stone railing. “If the king were to go to war we would allies, if this realm needed goods would supply more of them, but the Summer Isles bends no knee to a king, not now and not even if you marry the King of the Andales.” Asha looked around, surveying The Keep that would be her home if she said agreed.

“If there was something that happened fracturing our families, who would I be? Princess Asha of Omboru the daughter of Prince  Obasi Xe or Queen of this foreign land called Westeros?” Asha asked, staring at her older sister for an answer.

“You would have to be both if that is what you desire, my sister.”

* * *

The sun had started to set causing beautiful hues of garnets, violets and marigolds, to streak across the western sky along with soft clouds. The Hound stepped down the red bricked hallway that opened up to a small upper courtyard. He stopped when he saw her, she had her back to him, she was bending down in front of the flower bed in the center of the stone quad. Off in the distance a seagull squeaked, and Imani lowly sung to herself as she picked a flower from the dirt. Sandor slowly stalked behind her, as she stood, tilting her head to one side and then the other as she hummed an upbeat melody. She stopped, perking up as if she had heard him, but before she could turn around, he grabbed her from behind, his hand covering her mouth before she could yelp out of surprise. Imani kicked and dropped the blue petaled flower to the floor.

“I wasn’t joking about what I said earlier, my lady.” Sandor growled, Imani wiggled against him as he held her and walked backwards down the corridor. He reached out his hand and grabbed the handle to a storage room door and opened it. Imani squeaked when he let her go only to push her into the window lit room. She stumbled and fell, vaguely aware of the sound of the door being bolted shut. She felt his hand at her ankle and he pulled her down and flipped over on her back. He adored the look of excited surprise she had when he was on her. He yanked off his gloves and then quickly undoing the golden belt that held her dress closed. Imani panted, the smooth fabric of her dress slipping open and exposing her tits, Sandor growled, grabbing both of them greedily. He pinched her nipples causing her to groan and arch her back.

“I could play with these tits all day.” Sandor whispered before wrapping his lips around one of them. Imani wiggled and shuttered for breath. He glanced up, watching her reactions as he flicked his tongue and then sucked.

“By the Goddesses, please don- don’t tease me.” Imani whispered, but he only chuckled and pulled away from her tit with a smack of his lips.

“Tease you?” Sandor’s hand moved down her body, and Imani parted her full lips as he slipped it under her skirt. “I’m sure you were the one that teased me with this cunt earlier, ” he said, dipping his fingers into her. Imani’s eyes rolled and her hips bucked as she pushed herself against his palm.

“Oh--did the thought of my cunny have you excited all day, Clegane?” She purred with wicked satisfaction, as she glanced down at his very obvious erection. Sandor clenched his teeth and pulled his fingers from inside of her, Imani quickly grabbed his hand and sat up face to face with him as she slowly put his fingers to her lips and sucked them clean. She hummed lovingly at her own taste and Sandor hissed. Imani giggled hotly as he pushed her back down, his hands, yanking and pulling at his trouser laces, eager to be inside of her. Imani pulled her dress up, wincing at the feeling of the chilly stone floor at her ass. Sandor grabbed the base of his cock and pushed into her.

“Ah!” She yelped as he filled her to the hilt, he noticed the sudden flutter of pain that came across her dark face but when she spoke her mouth told him something completely opposite. “Oh! Yessss…” She hissed, tilting her head back. Sandor grabbed both of her thighs and pushed them up, driving himself deeper. Imani’s ankle bangles jingled as he thrust into her roughly. He watched as his cock slipped in and out of her tight twat, loving how she coated him with her honey.

“Ahh--! Is--is that all you’ve got, Clegane?” Imani taunted, with the burning voice of a temptress. He snarled, yanked out of her, forcing her on her stomach and pulled her up on her knees. She gasped, as he grabbed her hips tightly and slammed back into her.

“Fuck!” Sandor cursed between his teeth, as he pumped into her. It had grown quite hot in the enclosed space due to their body heat and panting, the setting sun causing the room to have an ominous, red, hellish hue.  He cocked his hand back and slapped her ass, and Imani bit her fist to stop herself from screaming in utter, stinging delight. “Does the lady like it rough?”

“S--sometimes--!” Imani whimpered, he was hitting all of the right spots. Sandor pulled her up, forcing her to arch her back against him as he wrapped his hand around her neck and held her in place, running his lips along the warm skin at the back of her neck. He inhaled, taking in her island smell, of fruits and uncommon flowers. Imani grabbed his free hand and put it between her thighs. “Rub it--ah--please!” she yelped, and he obliged, rubbing her the sensitive bud as he drove himself in and out of her. “Yes--ah yes! Fuck my cunt!” Imani panted, and Sandor couldn’t hold back a chuckle at her obscene “unladylike” words.

“Ah--Are you going to fucking howl for The Hound?” He growled against her neck, he sound of his deep voice was her undoing.

“Ohhh!! Sandor--!” Imani choked, beautifully and breathlessly as she twitched, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. She was relieved that wasn’t face to face with him because she was aware that her expression wasn’t the most flattering in that moment of pleasure. Sandor let out a string of rough profanities, against her neck, his hips jutting at the feeling of her cunt squeezing around him. He thrusted a few more times before quickly pulling out of her, coming against her supple ass. They both stayed like that for a moment, panting for breath and sweating.

“You do know that I heard you when you were trying to sneak up behind me.” Imani whispered, her face still aflame with heat although no flush could be found on her dark skin. Sandor chuckled, and fought the annoying urge nuzzle her. “You’re not very stealthy with all that armor, on.”

“So you mean you wanted me to drag you off somewhere dark, so I could have my way with you?” he asked, knowing that if they stayed like that he would end up fucking her again. Imani giggled lightly.

“Ask yourself, were you having me...or was I having you?”


	7. Chapter 7

**  
**Cersei sat across from her husband, as they sat in the king's chambers while they talked. It had been the first time in a long time that they actually had a conversation without it degrading into a full on argument. She looked at him and even though he had become a fat drunk she could still see a shade of the handsome, fierce man that she once loved. Robert poured more wine into his cup, and there was a knock at the door. **  
**

“What?” He called in his usual rumbling voice.

“It’s me.” Joffrey's voice said from the other side.

“Come in.” Cersei said, the door opened and Joffrey stepped in, looking his usual handsome golden self.

“I want to take Lady Asha on a hunt,” he said, glancing at his mother and then his father. Cersei made a questioning face and raised her eyebrow.

“A hunt?” She asked.

“Yes, she’s good with a bow I’ve seen it myself, she says she hunts with her father all the time. I want to see if she’s as good as she says.” Joffrey said, his mother noticed a smirk creep across his thin lips. She knew her son better than anyone and as a mother Cersei was aware that her oldest boy had a strange interest in death, and that this whole idea was born out of him itching to see the young lady kill something.

Cersei glanced at her husband who was gulping back his third full glass of wine. Robert pulled the cup away and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

“I don’t care.” Robert said, before burping loudly. Cersei rolled her eyes, but then looked back to her son with a strained smile.

“Darling, I don’t think riding off into the King’s Wood is very becoming behavior for the possible future queen." Joffrey shuffled from foot to foot and made a face as if he was about to throw a fit.

“Damn it, woman, let them go. They’ll have a whole damn riding party with them, it isn’t like anything is going to happen to them.” Robert said, pouring _another_ glass of wine. Cersei intertwined her thin fingers and continued to force a smile. 

“What if you fall from your horse?” The queen asked. Joffrey shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes.

“Then I’ll get back up.”

“Hopefully you get a few scratches, maybe it would put some fucking hair on your chest.” Robert laughed loudly.

“Fine,” his mother relented and Joffrey's eyes lit up. “But I don’t think her sisters would appreciate you taking her out of The Keep alone, you can both can go hunting as long as one of her sisters accompanies the riding party,” Cersei told him. Joffrey smiled, looking smug and satisfied before he headed back to the door and left with a small spring in his step.

“I don’t know why you have to be so damn coddling when it comes to our son, he needs to go out more and be a man.” The king grunted, staring at his cold, golden wife.

“I don’t think they’re a good match.” Cersei said, picking up her cup and wine.

“Piss on that, she’s beautiful, young, from a rich family and they seem to get along fine. What more do you want woman?” He asked.

“We had supper with Lady Asha last night, and he just kept staring at her as if he was amazed at her existence.”

“Wait, so you’re mad that he actually likes her?”

“I’m not mad.” Cersei took a sip of her wine. “Worried, because I know that little girl is going to grow up to be a cunning little bitch. She would have her summery, pretty claws in him, and the Seven Kingdoms wouldn’t be ruled by King Joffrey it, they would be ruled by his foreign wife.”

King Robert set his cup down and let out a low sigh. “If this marriage were to happen, our son would be the first king to have any control over lands past the Narrow Sea. The Xe’s are rich, the Summer Isles are rich, and if he were to marry her The Crown would be rich.” The King spoke and Cersei chuckled slightly.

“That might be the first time you’ve ever cared about money.” She said sarcastically.

“I want him to be a better king than I have been.” Robert laughed, causing his wife's lip to twitch ever so slightly. “And to do that he’s going to need rich allies, so you need to get over your fear of him marrying a foreign girl.” Roberts words caused his wife to actually laugh at his words, a rare event for her.

“You think this is about them being foreign? That couldn’t be further from my fears.” She took a sip of her wine before continuing. “Our son needs a well-behaved woman, and she isn’t one of them.”

“Oh, and you are?”

Cersei ignored her husband's words and kept speaking. “She is the kind of woman that if he ever laid a hand on her, she would wait until he went to sleep and then would slit his throat open with no remorse." The queen said as if she could forsee the future. Cersei knew her boy had more than a few issues and she also knew the possible reason as to _why -_ although she would never speak it. Cersei could see that past Asha’s childish, dimpled face was a fierceness that most Western women did not possess.

“You’re paranoid.” Robert said dismissively, ignoring her prophetic warning and going back to his wine. 

* * *

There was the unique sound of stone on steel that filled Sandor’s chambers. He sat there sharpening his long sword, he heard a small sigh from the bed and glanced over to see Imani. She was lying there, naked, looking brown, warm and out of place in his dim and dark quarters. She had dozed off after he fucked her, hard on her own request. Imani looked far too beautiful in sleep, for him to wake her. Dreamily limp, on her side facing him, one leg slightly hanging off the edge of the bed. Her bangle anklets looking as though they were threatening to slip off, but they didn’t. It was if she were a painting, _‘Lady of the Isle’_. Imani raised her head slowly, her braids dropping to cover one side of her mahogany face, and her onyx eyes peered at him, still seeming drowsy.

“Humm...what are you doing?” Imani asked, taking him in. A small, sly smile coming to her plump lips as she took him in. Wearing only his trousers and boots. Imani bit her lip at the sight of his bare, broad, hairy chest, wide shoulders, and muscular arms.

“I’m sharpening my sword.” Sandor grunted, watching her as she sat up, his eyes landing on her breasts.

“How long was I asleep?” Imani said, between the brokenness of a powerful yawn that caused her to shiver and shake out her braids. Sandor turned back to his sword, running the stone along the steel.

“Not long at all, I didn’t want to wake you.” He looked back over at Imani as she slowly stood and stretched. Imani put her detailed beaded slippers back on and walked over to him. His eyes looked her up and down, from crown to heel, she was a sight to behold. She bit her lip and tilted her head in what seemed like innocence as she walked over to him and got on her knees in front of him. Sandor’s eyes widened, as she wiggled her hips and reached out to run her delicate finger tips on the flat side of the blade.

“We have lots of gold and gemstones on the Summer Isles…” Imani whispered. “Our hardwoods are praised around the world...but we lack other metals like steel.” She looked back up at him. “I hear, that it’s good luck to have a lady kiss your sword, something about it being good luck.” Imani said raising her eyebrow slowly.

“Well then... kiss it.” Sandor said lowly, he groaned watching Imani leaned over and pressed her full lips against the flat of the blade. Her warm breath causing the cold steel to fog with condensation. Imani parted her full lips, and darted out her pink tongue and licked it slowly. “Fuck....” Sandor moaned, the simple action causing him sigh with a throbbing agony. She looked up and then her lips twisted into a playful smile as she moved her hand to the handle of the sword slowly and moved it off his lap and placed it on the floor. Sandor sat up a bit straighter as Imani put her hands on his bent knees. She didn’t say anything, only moving her hands slowly up his tone thighs, nimble fingers move to the laces of his trousers and tugged at them.

“You have another sword that I wish to kiss as well.” Imani whispered, reaching her hand into his trousers. Sandor tilted his head back at the feeling of her warm palm as she grabbed his cock. Imani smirked, feeling him grow harder in her fist. He opened his legs wider as she leaned down, her soft lips and hot breath kissing against the head. She wiggled as she took more of his cock into his mouth, sweeping one of her braids behind her ear as she bobbed her head up and down. He moaned and clenched his fist, his hips writhing with the rhythm of her swirling tongue. 

“Seven hells!” Sandor hissed when she took all of him to the back of her throat, Imani gagged slightly, but quickly regained her control, bobbing her head at a steady pace. Her mischievous eyes flickered up to see him, with his head tilted to one side, his messy brown hair covering the scarred side of his face. Sandor hissed and uttered something, but it was far too breathy and faint for Imani to make out. Cautiously he put his large hand on the back of Imani’s head, she didn’t groan in protest only humming with sounded and felt like a purr of delight on his cock. His fingers gently gripped a few of her thick cashmere textured braids, as he bucked into her mouth. Imani slipped one hand between her thighs, moaning as she touched herself. Sandor let out a growl as she pulled him her spit covered lips with a playful, devious smile. “Don’t fucking stop.” He panted, but Imani ignored his plea, grabbing the base of his cock with one hand and then running her fingertips on the head. “Are you trying to make me fucking crazy?”

“Maybe…” Imani purred.

“Where did you--ah---” he hissed back his words for a second as she licked the underside of his cock. “Fuck--where did you learn all of this?”

“Practice.” Imani smiled, going back to her teasing torture with her fingertips. “Where I’m from we believe sex isn’t a bad thing…” she whispered and Sandor moaned as he rocked his hips. “We have legs so we can walk, eyes so we can see...so…” She removed her hand from his throbbing cock, and stood up. “...Why can’t we enjoy our _other_ parts without feeling bad about it? It feels good for a reason. ” She said, her hot breathy words posed a thought provoking question regarding the difference between their cultures, but Sandor couldn’t even begin to even think about it with her standing there naked in front of him. He growled reaching out and snatched her by her knobby wrist and pulled her onto his lap and with one slight readjustment, he was back between her summer thighs. Imani gasped, and rested her face against his shoulder as he grabbed her ass tightly as started to thrust up into her.

“So wet…” he moaned, loving how she felt. He heard her giggle sweetly before her lips found his neck and gently kissed, the soft feeling driving him even more insane with lust. He slapped her ass, causing Imani to let out a cross between a yelp and a hot moan. The wet, slick sound of him driving himself upwards inside of her filled his dimly lit chambers. Imani moaned and panted as his cock slipped against the sweet spot inside of her. Her teeth grazed against his skin, and he could feel her from the inside, twitching and pulsing. When he had laid with whores, he was paying them to please him so he didn’t care much at all about their pleasure, they were paid regardless if he happened to make them come or not. But with Imani it was different, he wanted to feel her come around him, the idea that he; The Hound could make such a beautiful woman whine in pleasure gave him a small glowing hint of pride. Imani wrapped her arms around him, her fingers playing his wavy brown hair.

“Harder, “ she whispered, and he was more than willing to oblige. Imani cried out, as he gave it to her viciously, his cock slamming inside of her. “Oh--!--yes. Yes. Yes!” Imani yelped, and with a sharp pant and a roll of her eyes she convulsed. Sandor gnashed his teeth as she tightened around him, he pumped into her a few more times and right before his own release, he grabbed her by her hips and quickly lifted her up off of him. His cock twitched and pulsed, sputtering onto his his stomach with spurts of warm white cum before he could even stroke it. Imani giggled, looking at his flushed face as he sat there, completely spent.

“Looks like I’ve worn you out.” she said.

“It seems you have.” Sandor panted, his eyes half open still reeling in afterglow. Imani scratched and cracked her back before picking her gown up off of the floor and slipping it back on.

“I’ll see you tomorrow for that ridiculous hunt.”

“You’re going?” he asked, imagining how beautiful she would look on horseback.

“Aye, can’t let my important little sister run off to Kings Wood by herself...although I don’t like riding.” Sandor laughed at her words.

“What? You don’t know how to ride a horse?”

“I know how to ride, I just don’t like horses they have strange eyes and people teeth.” Imani pounded.

“Now, I’m looking forward to tomorrow.” He snickered, and in that moment she wondered if he knew how handsome he was when he smiled.

“I’m glad you think it’s funny, Clegane.” Imani said playfully as she rolled her eyes and then bit her lip. “Well, I must be off before one of my sisters ends up looking for me.

“Aye, my lady.” He said, watching her walk to the door, she looked back and gave him a smile and chuckle before she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a plot, I promise lol.


	8. Chapter 8

Imani let out a powerful yawn that rattled through her whole form as her and Asha made their way to the front gates of the Red Keep at first light. It was far too early for her, but alas, she was there for the sake of her sister.

“Are you excited?” Imani asked her little sister as she straightened the clasp that held on her green feathered cloak.

“A little, I wonder what kind of animals they have in The Kingswood.” Asha said before she her little dimpled face lit up suddenly.

“Do they have those big wolves here? You know, the ones from your books.” The little lady threw her head back as she tried to think of the name of the beasts.  “Ohh, what are they called?”

“You mean Direwolves.” Imani said, fighting back another yawn. 

“Yes! Do they have those here?” Asha asked, large eyes alight with the thought of how grand it would be to send their father the pelt of such an amazing beast. Imani parted her lips to speak, but before she could someone else did.

“There are no Direwolves south of the wall, little lady.” They both heard Sandor say from behind them. The sound of his rough voice made Imani smile before she turned around to look at him. He was wearing his steel dog’s helmet staring down at them both, his face only dimly visible through what was the open mouth of the beast. It was a curious design, and Imani idly wondered how his vision wasn’t impaired by it.

“Aww, that would have been a nice kill.” Asha sighed, looking truly disappointed.

“Isn’t there a house that has a sigil of a Direwolf?” Imani asked, tilting her head to one side as she looked up at him in her usual peering though lashes way. Sandor noticed that even her riding clothes were rich with Summer Isle beauty. Her cloak, much like her sister's her's was made of feathers, but her’s was mauve in color, and he silently appreciated how her thighs looked in the snug leather trousers.

“Aye, That would be House Stark.”

“I knew I read it somewhere.” Imani smiled. Trying her best not to think about the previous night, yet subconsciously her eyes glanced down to the sword at his hip. The same sword that she had pressed her full lips to and ran her tongue along leading to _other_ things. Asha’s  perceptive little eyes flickered up at her sister, catching the look she gave The Hound. She more than most knew her sisters expressions and what they meant, she had seen that same one before multiple times while they were there never to the handsome knights that begged for her attention and only towards The Hound.

“My Lady!” They all heard Joffrey call from behind them and for a split second Imani thought she saw Sandor roll his eyes, although she was sure she had misread his expression. The golden prince made his way over to him. To Imani he had a whole aura about him, most notably how he seemed to put on a show when around her sister. He tried to strut, push out his chest and seem a true lion, even though he was still a cub just fresh off of sucking from his mother's tit. He was a boy trying to look like a man, and in that he failed, horribly. The whole hunt was an attempt for Joffrey to try and woo Asha. Yet Imani wondered  if he knew that his possible wife was using it as an opportunity to get to see what the prince was truly made of outside of the Red Keeps walls. For such a young lady Asha valued skill, and talent and so far Prince Joffrey hadn’t seemed to have demonstrated either, yet.

“It’s a lovely day.” The prince said, looking up at the clear sky.

“It is, I can’t wait to get out there.” Asha smiled. She was good at hunting at singing, but what she was best at was reading people and twisting their wills her’s. She lacked the genuine rosy charm that Imani and Ekua had and was far more calculating favoring their late mother more than any else. 

“We should saddle up soon.” Joffrey said, reaching out to run the back of his pale hand against her brown, summer kissed cheek. Sandor noticed that there was a calm about his face and that possibly in his own little twisted way Joffrey did care for the girl, but if they were married that care wouldn’t last long.

“Right,” Asha nodded, but then looked back at her sister. “Sister, you should really try to ride with someone, seeing as you much not like horses.” The little lady said as if casually. Imani tightened her lip and was about to say that she was more than fine and could ride alone. True, she didn’t like horses, something about them made her uncomfortable and she had been thrown off the back of one as a young girl, but she wad competent enough to ride. 

“Dog, you will let Lady Imani ride with you.” Joffrey demanded of Sandor and for one of the first time it was an order that he didn’t mind. Imani felt her face prickle with heat as she narrowed her eyes and glared back at her her little sister who only gave her a small mischievous smile before her and the Prince headed off to their horses.

“Come, my lady.” Sandor said, taking the opportunity to gently put his hand on the small of her back as he lead her off. 

“Well, that was embarrassing.” Imani chuckled, face still warm.  “That child….I swear she’s too intuitive for her own good, sometimes.”

“Aye, the little lady is a watcher, not much seems to get past her.” He said, looking down at her, his eyes drawn to her pouting lips as she chewed on her bottom one. He wished she would stop that...

“Believe me she knows far less than she thinks she does, “ Imani said, Asha truly had no clue that they had already enjoyed each others company...more than a few times. Imani stopped suddenly, looking rather nervous once they approach the large, black mean looking horse. It looked at her, neighed and bobbed its head.

“Don’t worry, he won’t bite you as long as you’re with me.” Sandor told her, although his words didn’t really help much to soothe her fear.

“His name?” Imani asked, as the beast sniffed her.

“Stranger.”

“Oh...like the God of The Seven?” she said, relieved that the horse only, let out a snort before backing away from her.

“Aye, you would be right.” He said securing the saddle. Imani idly picked at her palm, looking around at the large hunting party mostly made up of men of the City Watch for protection, it all seemed a bit excessive.

“He’s a big fucking horse.” Sandor heard her say causing him to laugh.

“Aye, and I’m a big fucking man.” He looked down at Imani and her nervous apprehension was slightly endearing to him to him. “Now, come here,” he said stepping towards her, Imani was surprised when he picked her up as if she weighed short of nothing an plopped her down on the horse just in front of the saddle.

“Shouldn’t I be behind you?” She asked as he got on, her back firmly against his armored chest.

“This way is safer for you, Stranger rides hard and we wouldn’t want you to fall off now would we? And I can see clear over you so it’s not a problem. ”  He put his arms around her and grabbed the reins. “Now, try to pretend you don’t like this.” Sandor whispered lowly in her ear, sending shivers down her spine causing her to wiggle against his crotch.

“I absolutely hate being on a horse with a barbarian like you.” she chuckled, her voice low and breathy so only he could hear.

“You’re a horrible liar, my lady.”  

* * *

 

Sandor hadn't been lying when he told her that his horse rode hard, it truly did causing her to bounce with each step of his hooves. The motion forcing her to buck her hips back and forth. Sandor hissed at the feeling of her ass right against his crotch, although he was unsure if she had noticed arousal, being far too busy laughing from what was either fear or exhilaration. The wind causing her sweet island scent to wash over him. Imani tittered loudly, crisp air against her face, the clear sky above them and she couldn’t help but laugh enjoying herself but mostly due to her company. She bit her lip, the undulating motion of his hips meeting her ass made her smirk.

“I think haha- I think you did this on purpose.” Imani giggled, sure that what she felt poking at her wasn’t part of the saddle.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean, my lady.” He uttered slowly, his hand grazing her inner thigh. She wished that he wasn’t wearing that ridiculous helmet, yearning to feel his beard on the back of her neck. Imani tried to shake the heady, heart throbbing feeling as they breeched the thick green tree line of The Kingswood.

People of the Summer Isles were known for their archery skills and strong bows made of rare hearty wood that could shoot arrows faster and at a longer distance than anything that could be made in Westeros. Joffrey watched in awe as little Lady Asha took down a doe from horseback, one fluid movement, relaxed bow arm and the arrow clear through the animal’s head. A sick smile coming to his face, for he was much more amazed at her ability to kill without flinching than he was her skills. Joffrey attempted to best his possible future wife, but failed at one point he almost had a deer, but lost it due to his own incompetence and then blamed his missing on the bow that he had. Joffrey eventually ordered a few of his men to hunt for him, an action that Imani knew put her sister off.

* * *

 

Imani was thankful when the hunt finally came to an end, her legs were sore, she was tired, hungry and even more bothersome, painfully sexually frustrated. She groaned and bit her lip as she walked down the hall back to her chambers the ache between her legs more palpable than the one in her lower back from riding all day. 

She had wished for him to slip his hand into her trousers, under the cloak so no one would notice. Imani deviously pinned for his touch and thought about how wicked it would have been to stifle moans as his fingers worked on her cunt, causing her to make up some excuse as to why she was suddenly out of breath. But that was an idle daydream that didn’t come to pass, but it still, feeling his crotch right against her ass as they road drove her insane. Imani pulled open the door to her chambers and quickly stepped in, yearning to relieve herself of the tense wound up feeling. She bolted the door quickly, and pressed her head against it. Imani groaned and slipped one hand into her trousers. She let out a shallow breath, feeling how wet he got her without even touching her. Imani closed her eyes and rested her back against the large wooden door, her hips moving with the motion of her fingers. 

“Ah--!” She moaned, rubbing herself desperately, throwing her head back. “Ah...oh Sandor.”

“Fuck.” Imani wasn’t sure that she wasn’t just hearing things and for a split second she froze before her eyes flew open. She saw him sitting there at the table with a smirk, a cup of wine in his hand. Imani just stared at him, wide eyed and panting as she watched him finish his cup of wine before he got up and walked over to her. Sandor leered down at her, proud that he was the one that snuck into her chambers this time. Imani stared up at him from behind her long soot colored lashes. He was getting  ready to say something vulgar and unchivalrous about what he wanted to do to her. But before he could even open his mouth Imani pushed him with both of her hands and what he was sure was most of her force towards the bed. He laughed, making no attempt to catch himself as he fell to the mattress. Without words, Imani was on him. She felt like she had more than two hands, desperately yanking and pulling at his armor. Sandor groaned and bucked his hips as she kissed him hard, catching his bottom lip between her teeth. He reached up and undid the gold clasps of her cloak, Imani pulled it off and threw it carelessly to the floor.

“I wish I could have taken you deep into The Kingswood and fucked you hard against a tree.” He growled, yanking her tunic open. Imani rippled with a hot, honey giggle as he grabbed her tits. Her detailed purple tunic sliding off of her smooth shoulders, exposing her dark brown abdomen, the ridges of her rib cage, and the prominent raised bones of her mahogany hips. 

“I don’t think that would be the proper way to treat a highborn lady.” Imani chuckled in between shuddering breaths, as he pinched her dark nipples. She let out a playful squeak as he flipped their positions, now looking down at her lasciviously.

“Aye, but I’m positive the lady would love it.” He growled, running his teeth along her warm, smooth collar bone.

“Please, just take me. I want it!” Imani begged beautifully, yanking at the bed sheets and wiggling.

“You want me to fill your cunt with my cock?” Sandor asked lowly, causing Imani to laugh.

“Yes, Clegane. I want your cock.” Imani purred. Sandor hissed at her words and forced her onto her stomach. Yanking down her trousers he grabbed her by her hips to move her up on her knees. He quickly unlaced his trousers and pulled his throbbing cock free.

“Ohhh!” Imani moaned as she slid into her, she was a bit sore from the previous night's romp in his quarters but she didn’t care.

“Fuck---your cunt feels so good.” Sandor moaned, loving how slick and tight she was. He gripped her ass, hissing as he started to thrust. Imani groaned, arching her back and licking her lips. Sandor put one hand on the small of her back as he fucked her deeper.

“Is this what you were going to think about when you--ah--when you were touching yourself? ” He asked, reaching around and rubbing the sensitive bud above her entrance.

“Yes! Oh Gods--yes!.” Imani whimpered pinching one of her nipples. The room was full of the wet, slick sounds of him, stroking in and out of her.  Sandor pressed his lips to her dewy, warm shoulder, the piney smell of The Kingswood is mixing with her natural scent creating something so alluring that he was sure it would drive him mad.

“Oh Sandor…” Imani moaned, through a shuttered breath and the glowing tingle that had already started to build at the apex of thighs suddenly burst aflame. Her body jolted and quivered and he could tell that she wanted to scream out, but she stifled her cries with a pillow, uttering his name over and over again.

“Seven hells!” Sandor hissed, he wanted to keep fucking her wishing he could cum in that tight, wet pink cunt but he knew he couldn’t. The building pressure gave way and he pulled out of her, and stroked himself onto her ass. He swore from behind gritted teeth, but his words slurred together, as he threw his head back and his hips bucked. Imani hummed, loving the feeling of his warm cum on her skin and the groans and growls he made. Sandor rested his head against her shoulder and in the haze of his afterglow, acting on impulse, he nuzzled her neck, and even through the scarred side of his face touched her smooth skin Imani didn’t flinch.  Yet, unbeknownst to Lady Imani and The Hound someone was listening.


	9. Chapter 9

In times of peace gossip ruled the tongues in The Red Keep, from the cooks, to the handmaidens, to even the high lords and ladies, everyone talked and everyone was talked about.  The most interesting of whispers were about who was bedding whom, everyone uttered about the things they heard about Lord Renly Baratheon, how he was a pillow bitter who had a thing for handsome young men. They talked about how Janos Slynt had a favorite whore he liked to fuck at Baelish’s brothel, how Grand Maester Pycelle was a disgusting old man who was known for harassing pretty young ladies and even how the queen herself wielded her cunt like her brother wielded his sword.

“There I was, walking down the hall and then…” Lord Tyrion took a drink of his wine from his cup quickly before continuing.  “...I heard what I thought was fucking.”

“This is what you so adamantly had to tell me?” Lord Varys asked, slipping his hands into the sleeves of the robe and arched one eyebrow.

“It isn't just about the fucking it was about who was fucking who.” Tyrion said, itching to get to the best part of the story. Varys took a seat across from him, interested now. Both of the men didn’t trust each other with ‘sensitive’ information, but the delicious whisperers such as sex could rarely bring down a realm.

“I just want to say, that I knew something was happening between them. Just putting that out there.” The imp said, looking smug and pleased with himself.

“Will you please just get to the point.” Varys huffed, rolling his eyes.

“Alright,” Tyrion leaned forward slightly. “I walked past Lady Imani Xe’s chambers and--” before he could continue Varys made a face.

“So wait, let me understand this, you are surprised that you heard sexual noises  come from her chambers? My lord, you do know that Summer Islanders view sex as a gift from the Gods, right?” He asked, looking slightly disappointed, Tyrion put his hand up as he took another drink of his wine.

“I know, let me finish!”  He urged, shifting in his seat. “She was fucking The Hound.” He said, watching Varys face for the expected to shock and surprise to come across it but he just looked at Tyrion seeming completely unaffected.

“And…?”

“And! Are you joking? Imani Xe one of the most beautiful women in the world...” he said, Varys shrugged, he didn’t really have an input her looks. “Daughter of Prince Obasi Xe one of the richest rulers in the Summer Isles was fucking, well getting fucked by The Hound.” Tyrion urged.

“You said you knew there was something going on, so why are you so shocked?” He asked, still looking impassive.

“Well, I didn’t think I would actually hear it.” Tyrion said with a shudder, recalling what he was sure was Sandor mentioning how good Imani’s cunt felt.

“Did she sound like she was enjoying it?” Varys asked, pouring a glass of wine for himself.

“Did she? Gods, she sounded absolutely thrilled. I never thought that of The Hound of all people would know how to please a woman. He seems more like the type that…”

“Takes what he wants?” Varys finished his thought.

“Exactly!” Tyrion took a drink of his wine. “You would never think that he could make a woman moan.”

“Well, people would think you wouldn’t know how to please a woman either, yet the whores say differently.” Varys said, causing Tyrion to chuckle. It was true he was very experienced, known for being good with his fingers and tongue. “From what I hear about the brown beauty is that she’s always been the curious one. In the Summer Isles and the Free Cities most people find Westerosi culture as violent and barbaric, but there will always be those who thrill for danger, especially ladies who grew up reading stories of far off lands, dragons and men with steel swords of the likes they’ve never seen before.” Varys said, his knowing of her wasn’t because of whispers but rather simply because if one looked hard enough her true intent and wants were obvious, yet most couldn’t see past her beauty to recognize anything further.

“I guess everyone deserves a taste of paradise, even dogs.” Tyrion chuckled, wondering if he should congratulate The Hound... on second thought, he figured that was probably not a good idea.

* * *

 

Her sisters more than likely had been looking for her, but Imani didn’t seem to care, completely content there in the dim lowness of The Red Keep in his dark chambers, like a fleck of gold in pot of coal. They didn’t speak, her head resting on his broad chest as she musically and lowly sung as a song in her native tongue. He had never, not once laid with a woman after, and in that moment he questioned why he hadn’t. Imani looked up at him, her fingers playing in his dark chest hair.

“Can I ask you something?” She said, her voice just above a whisper. Sandor looked down at the russet beauty, whose lips were even fuller than usual due to his recent and almost violent fury of kisses.

“That depends on what it is.” He said, feeling her inhale deeply. Imani glanced down quickly before she looked back up at him. Sandor was surprised when she slowly reached up, her delicate fingertips brushing against the burn scars on the side of his face.

“How?” she asked simply, and he stared at her before lowering his brow. He sat up and let out a huff, he never talked about it, but he couldn't ignore Imani's gentle curiosity.

“My brother.” Sandor said, causing Imani to blink in surprise. “When I was seven, he caught me playing with one of his toys by the fire.” He paused, recalling that night when he was still a child. Imani sat up, one hand holding the bed sheet to her chest as she stared at him. “He just walked up to me, grabbed me by the back of my head and pressed my face to the flames.” Imani put her hand over her mouth in shock. “All because he thought I stole his toy and I was just playing with it.” Imani felt hot tears prick her eyes at the story, how horrible to hurt by your own flesh and blood, that something that was incomprehensible to her. She loved her sisters more that anything in the world, she would die for them and the idea that there were people in the world that hurt their own siblings made her sick. “My father told everyone that my bedding caught fire…” he shook his head and looked down. “Having it be my own brother was the worst part, minus the pain... and the smell...” Sandor glanced over at Imani, and to his bewilderment, she was wrinkled brows, matted lashes, salty teared--crying.  He didn’t think that her perfection could be any greater than what it already was but in that moment, with the lines of tears running down her dark brown cheek she was almost agonizingly alluring. Sandor reached over and cupped Imani by her chin, and she looked up at him.

“Are you crying for me?” He asked, Imani twitched her lip but didn’t speak only nodding her head. “Pretty ladies shouldn’t cry for violent hounds.” He uttered lowly to her, Imani narrowed her eyes and then pushed his hand away. She shook her head and then quickly wiped her face of the tears.

“I hate that name, I hate that that people call you ‘The Hound’ and even worse that you refer to yourself as that.” Imani uttered, looking genuinely bothered by it.

“Because that’s what I am.” He said, and Imani shook her head again as she got out of bed and grabbed up her dress from the floor.

“No, that’s not true.” She whispered, but then she gasped when Sandor reached out and grabbed her by her knobby wrist and yanked her into his large lap. He grabbed her by the back of her neck, using his strength to hold her in place. Imani hissed hotly at his grip on her wrist, and she wiggled suggestively against him.

“Do you know the things I’ve done?” He asked, darkly staring in her black eyes. Imani swallowed and writhed a bit. “Do you know how many people I've killed?” She shook her head as best as she could due to his large hand clutching the back of her warm, dewy neck. “They call me 'The Hound' for a reason.” He growled, pushing her closer so their mouths were just shy of touching.

“Why are you trying to scare me away, Clegane?" Imani purred, unwavering and unfrightened. Sandor’s lips curled into a contemptuous smile, as he let her wrist go, only to quickly slip his hand between her summer thighs and plunged two fingers into her.

“You’re a curious woman.” He growled against her lips. “Like…” he moved his fingers inside of her, causing her whimper and buck against his hand. “A kitten.”  Imani hissed and to his surprise, she lunged forward, crushing her gentle, soft mouth against his, wrapping her arms around him and overpowering his strong jaws with just the flutter of her kiss. She wriggled as he kept moving his fingers in a ‘come here’ motion that hit the sensitive spot inside of her. Imani whimpered and bucked her hips against his palm. He felt the heat of her breath warm against his face as she panted.  

“Ah-I know--ahh--I know you can be far rougher with those fingers of yours.” She whispered before moaning loudly when gave her what she wanted. Sandor chuckled, watching her grit her teeth as she arched her back. He let her neck go, and ran his hand down the indent of her spine., pushing her forward so he could catch one of her hard brown nipples between his lips.  

“Ohhh, yess!” Imani crooned, tilting her head back and biting her bottom lip. Sandor pulled away suddenly and yanked his finger from inside of her, Imani groaned in protest she had been so close. He lay on his back and smirked up at her.

“Come here, I want to taste that cunt.” He said and Imani was quick to scurry up to his lips eager to feel his thick beard between her thighs again. As soon as planted her twat on his lips, Sandor’s strong hands came up and he grabbed her by her hips, holding her in place so he couldn't escape his mouth. Imani panted as he darted his tongue out, causing her to gasp.

He had been craving that honey ever since the first taste, and was pleased to find her dripping wet.

“Oh! Right there.” Imani whispered, as he lapped at her twat. Imani’s mouth dropped open at the feeling of his tongue flicking against the small bud. Sandor groaned as Imani reached down and slightly tugged on his hair as she started to rock her hips against his mouth. The glowing tingle started to build, higher and higher. Imani threw her head back before shuttering with a giggling moan. Imani blinked rapidly when he didn’t stop licking her cunt. “Ahhh--wait--” Imani yelped, her body attempting to yank away simply because it felt too good but she couldn’t move at all. Sandor chuckled, watching her expression, her mouth open, eyes clenched shut and panting desperately. “Oh! Fuck--I--” Imani’s voice was cut short when she came again. Sandor finally let her go and Imani practically collapsed off of him, and she let out a ragged sigh watching him lick his lips almost greedily. Imani slipped over on her back and looked up at the ceiling.

“I could bury my face in your cunt all day.” Sandor said, causing her to laugh. Imani sat up on her elbows and looked at him.

“You are such a vulgar man.”

“Aye, and you seem to enjoy it a lot.”

“Mmm, I surely do.” Imani purred, knowing she should leave but not wanting to even though knowing how much of a problem it was to have that feeling.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rather short.


	10. Chapter 10

The sky was blue, not a cloud stippling its overhead beauty. The Westerosi sun beaming down on the green gardens, of The Red Keep. The cicada’s of the long summer chirped and through the dusty warm light of the mid-afternoon Sandor could see Imani. She looked as if she belonged there among the lush leaves and flowers, dressed in deep red with a shawl of purple feathers. She was there with her two sisters, standing behind Asha as she braided her hair, while Ekua sat next to her. They were all chatting, and from afar, he watched as Imani threw her head back and laughed loudly about something, Asha made a scrunched nose face and turned around to playfully swat at her sister. Imani laughed even harder, but wrapped her arms around Asha even through the little lady protested, obviously annoyed by her sisters teasing. Sandor admired the interaction between the three beautiful siblings, there was an obvious deep love between the girls a love that he could only relate to in brief fragments of memory. Imani kissed Asha on her supple cheek. The little lady made what seemed to be a disgusted face, and for the first time acted her age when she childishly tried to fight her way out of Imani's embrace. The image of them, reminded him of his own sister whose face, he had a hard time remembering. She had been three years older than him, favoring their mother from he was told. Sandor could recall her hugging him, he could remember her sweet laugh as she pinched his cheeks saying ‘One day, little brother you’ll grow up to be so handsome...’ her sisterly love was the last time that he felt that anyone cared about him and that had been so long ago.

Sandor’s thoughts floated back to the other night in his quarters, and how the woman that he was watching laugh and titter with her sisters had tears pool in her deep, dark eyes as she cried salty Summer Sea tears for him. The idea that such a beautiful creature felt pity for him was almost just as unbelievable as the fact that he had been with her. His mind had been reaching for an answer for how, he of all men there in King’s Landing had not only tasted nectar from the rarest flower, but gorged himself on it. His large hands were never meant to touch her silky thighs, her indrawn warm abdomen should have been kissed by another, yet his name was the one that she moaned in that sticky hot alluring voice, ‘Oh--yes Sandor.’

 

He felt his face prickle with heat at the thought of her and the body she had under that red gown. The tuft of black curly hair between her thighs, biting those full lips, hissing in pleasure as he licked those dark, brown pabbled nipples-- something that he wished he could do at that very moment. Sandor caught his lip between his teeth trying to shake the feeling that was pooling in his loins, as he watched her through the hazy, sun kissed, capital air.

“Come on, Dog.” He heard Joffrey say as the prince got from his chair, where he had been sitting in the shade enjoying a plate of lemon cakes. Sandor said nothing, walking next to the vile little prince. He glanced back over at Imani and saw her dark eyes staring right back at him, her whole face seemed impassive minus what seemed like a mischievous glint in her eyes, as if she were smiling without her lips. From the side Ekua leaned forward and looked in his direction as well, her face far more telling than her sisters. She also didn’t look at him with fear or disgust, but rather simply a foggy sky of a question. She glanced at Imani, then back to him, her brows raising and with a roll of her eyes shook her head.

* * *

 

Imani held up the bottom of her gown as she walked down the red hallway of the Keep. Her and Ekua had been invited to supper with Queen Cersei but it felt like more like a summons. It was obvious that the queen wasn’t doing it for hospitality's sake, it was possible to see what information she could get from the sisters of her son's maybe future bride. Imani had seen the way Cersei narrowed her eyes when looking at Asha. It was hard to figure what the queen was thinking, but she did know that Cersei was less enthusiastic about the prospect of having Asha as a daughter in law than Joffrey was about having her as a wife. They had not come to Westeros for political maneuvering, or for mingling houses, goods, land and gold, but because they simply wanted to see more of the world. Yet, their father had told them of his suspicions regarding their warm welcoming of his children. Prince Obasi knew that it wasn’t crown that looking for something from his daughters but rather the Lannisters and Tywin who pulled strings in the west from Casterly Rock. Imani let out a small groan, she didn’t want to spend her supper with the golden queen, she found her presence bitter and sour. She turned the corner and instantly an uncontrollable, almost childlike smile came across her face as soon as she saw him, walking down the hallway with his back to her. Imani grabbed up the bottom of her gown, and with her usual light footed steps she attempted to sneak behind Sandor. If she had been taller, or him shorter she would have got up on her tip toes, and would have playfully covered his eyes behind her fingers, but since she barely came up to his broad shoulders there was no way that she could. Sandor paused smelling a flutter of sweetness behind him, the scent of fruits he had not tasted, and the slight perfume of island water and air. He looked over his shoulder and saw her, the bottom of her dress held up, beaded slippers and delicate ankles visible. Her black eyes widened, much like a kitten being caught doing something that it shouldn't and then with a sudden smile Imani shuttered with carefree innocent giggles.

“What are you doing?” Sandor asked, his expression gentle because of sunniness in her titters.

“I was--” she paused stifling another giggle before she dropped the bottom of her gown. “I was trying to sneak up on you, but, obviously I failed.” Sandor turned to face her, his eyes darting down to her smooth brown cleavage that was snugly squeezed into her tight red gown.

“You should never sneak up on a man.” He said.

“Never sneak up on a man on or never sneak up on _you?_ ” Imani asked, in an impish tone looking at him from up under her black lashes. Sandor took a step towards Imani, effectively cornering her.  Imani bit her lip as he grabbed her thigh with one hand.

“Don’t sneak up on me.” He uttered lowly.

“Oh, are you saying you would hurt me?” Imani moaned almost wickedly.

“I could have.”

“But you wouldn’t," she said, but then gasped as he grabbed her by her upper arm and pinned her against the wall. He watched as an excited little smile came to her lips, eyes rolling slightly as she wiggled against him.

“Can I have you tonight?” Sandor asked, watching as she moistened her full lips with her tongue. Imani panted breathlessly, but her expression changed in an instant as if she remembered something upsetting.

“Er- I can’t,” she uttered, looking bashful for the first time. “I’m flowering.” She subconsciously clenched of her thighs together, and he knew that under her dark skin there was a blush lurking. Sandor snickered at her words, licking his lips before he leaned closer.

“You think a bit of your cunt blood is going to put me off?” He whispered in her ear.  Imani gasped, her eyes widening at his obscene words genuinely catching her by surprise.

“Oh, dear!” She put one hand to her chest in honest shock, but the small smile that played in the corner of her lips gave her arousal at the idea away.

“After supper?” He asked, noticing how ragged her breathing had grown. Imani looked unsure for a second before she swallowed and nodded.

“Aye…” She uttered, wishing that the heat in her face would subside because it was growing uncomfortable. Sandor smirked before he gave Imani’s silk covered, warm thigh one more squeeze before he pulled away, out of her pulsating, hot aura.

“Enjoy your supper with the queen, my lady.” He said, his eyes sliding over her from heel to head one more time before he continued on his way down the red sun dusted hallway.

* * *

The older Xe sisters had agreed with each other that they wanted to get supper over as quick as possible, food, shallow conversation and then it would be over. Cersei took a sip of her wine, her third glass already as she looked at the sisters, her eyes mostly focused on Ekua, much to Imani’s relief. Her mind was far away, thinking Sandor and what he had proposed they do. ‘Laying with the Flower’ wasn’t an uncommon thing in the Summer Isles, but it was mostly something done between married couples. Even though all of Imani’s experience with sex she had never partaken in the act, not because she found it taboo, but rather because she was personally self-conscious about it. She would have never thought that a Westerosi man would ever even contemplate doing such a thing, judging by how they viewed sex and women Imani had figured that even the idea of a woman’s red flower would be detestable to men in Westeros. Before Imani could even go over in her head the possibilities and worries of her after supper plans Cersei spoke, snapping her out of her thoughts.  

“So, Lady Ekua, you’re unmarried as well?” The queen asked, snapping her fingers for the servant to bring more wine.

“Aye, that is correct.” Ekua nodded, wiping her mouth with the cloth napkin.

“If you don’t mind me asking why?” Cersei asked, causing Imani to shift uncomfortably in her seat, the topic of why the elder Xe daughter was still unmarried was not a fitting tale for table conversation. Ekua put the golden fork she was using down and intertwined her thin, long nailed fingers.

“I was married once.” She said and Imani looked up at her, surprised at her sister's words. She rarely spoke about it--or him. “My husband died and I lost a baby in the grief and I swore never to remarry, so I didn’t.” Cersei put her cup down, but then raised her eyebrow, she had never heard of such a custom. There in Westeros if a high born woman's husband dies, she was expected or even sometimes forced to remarry for the sake of breeding and keeping the family line going. The idea of a high born lady refusing to remarry for the sake of love and personal moral was simply unheard of.

“I’m sorry there's a cultural difference between us, it just seems as if it would be better for your family if you were to simply marry again and have children.” Cersei spoke, thinking of how her father would find their ways ignorant, foolish and selfish.

“I see no reason why I should, because if I were to remarry, I would look at my husband day in and day out and despise him for not being the man I loved. You should be able to look at your children and see the gifts that are given from love, and passion not a duty. I want to look at my child and see a reflection of the man I love not a things I had to forge as if they were a swords. I have two beautiful sisters, if Asha marries Joffrey her children will be Barathons stags…” Unknowingly to the sisters the queen cringed inside because she knew that technically the children would be Lannister lions. “And Imani’s first born would take the name ‘Xe’ and be a panther and after that her other children will take their father's name but even not, we have aunts, uncles, cousins all with the Xe family name and the Xe line to continue with my help or without it. In the end for us it isn’t about family, duty or honor it is about our happiness.” Ekua took a drink of her wine and looked at the queen. “Don’t you think women deserve to happiness, just like the men do, your grace?” Ekua asked. Cersei stared at her before taking a drink of her wine, she only gave her an answer in the form of a shallow nod and the conversation chilled. Imani was silent but sure that this place and their beliefs were wrong and wasn’t where her sister belonged.

* * *

 

Imani made her way down the stone steps to the lower part of The Keep, the tips of her black braids still slightly damp from her bath. Freshly washed and perfumed, smelling of fruits and flowers, still dressed in red, but now wearing a dress in popular capital style, far easier to remove than her usual extravagant attire. She slipped around the corner and looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was following her before she stopped at his ominous chamber door. Imani undid a few of the ties that held the top of the gown closed, causing them to slip open and expose her brown cleavage. She smoothed down one of her braids before knocking. The door clanked open and there he stood, only wearing his trousers and boots.

Imani stepped in and he closed and bolted the door behind her.  She turned around to face him, her soft lips parted with a sweet expression of apprehension, but there was an obvious lust there as well.

“My lady.” He said, stepping towards her and she bit her bottom lip and picked at her palm.

“Clegane.” His eyes dropped to her cleavage before darting back up to her sun kissed, warm face. She looked down, one of her thick long braids dropping from behind her ear. “I’ve never done this,” she said, still plucking at the marbled skin of her tan palm. Sandor laughed, stepping behind her.

“It’s just fucking,” he uttered.

“Well, yes, but...” Imani’s words were cut short once she felt his hand reach for the clasp of her golden belt. She inhaled sharply at the feeling, his hard cock poking at her lower back. “Oh, has your rod been hard for me all day, Clegane?” Imani giggled, as he dropped her belt to the floor with a clank.

“Not all day, but for some of it.” He growled, undoing the few ties that where now the only thing keeping her dress closed.

“Well, if you were yearning you could have just used your hand, or is that beneath you western men?” Imani purred playfully.

“No, it isn’t beneath me... but why would I need to when you’re right here?”  He whispered, the roughness in his voice sending chills up her spine. He yanked the top half of her gown open, a chuckle escaping his lips, loving the fact that she liked to keep no barrier between her naked body and her dresses. Imani tilted her head back, as he cupped both of her breasts in his large hands, enjoying the hiss that left her mouth as he pinched  and rolled her nipples between his fingers. She wiggled against his crotch and tilted her head back, her soft cashmere braided hair brushing against his chest, right where his heart was. Sandor dropped one of his hands, grabbing up the bottom fabric of her gown.

“Wait, I--” Imani panted and gripped his wrist. “It’s going to be messy.” Her words causing him to chuckle lowly against her.

“I’ve gutted men…” her grip on his wrist relaxed, “I have slit throats…” Imani’s breath hitched as he slowly pulled up her gown. “Yet, you think your blooming flower would disgust me?” He slipped both hands under her skirt, pulling down her undergarments and with it the rag that was between her legs. Imani’s face burned with a mix of embarrassment and titillation. “Believe me, my lady, that is nothing compared to the bloodshed I’ve seen and caused.” Suddenly Imani turned around, her dress slowly slipping down her hips as she stood on her tip toes and reached up for him. Brown fingers in his brown hair as she pulled at him, yearning for his kiss. Her dress dropped in a pool of red fabric at her feet as Sandor grabbed her by the back of her neck and crushed his mouth against her hot open lips, but he was surprised at how quickly she went from bashful little dove to salacious and practically wiggling with need. He pulled away, grabbing her by her arm and led her to the bed.

“I don’t want to get blood all over your linens.”

“Fuck the linens.” Sandor uttered, before pushing her down on the bed. Imani giggled, sounding slightly nervous as she put her hand between her legs and covered herself.

“Isn’t this taboo to some people here?” She asked, watching as he palmed his hard cock through the fabric of his trousers.

“I’m sure some people think it is.”

“I think laying with a red flower is against the morals of The Seven, don’t you worship them?” Imani asked, as Sandor knelt on the bed between her thighs.

“Only one of the Seven is true.”

“The Stranger.”

“Aye, my lady. The Stranger is death and the unknown…” Sandor pushed her legs apart even further, yet she still covered her cunt with hand. “... We will all meet death one day.” Imani stared at him, slowly removing her hand from between her thighs. Sandor’s leering gaze dropped to her twat that was slightly tinged red, but as he had promised he wasn’t put off by it at all.

“Valar Morghulis.” Imani uttered, and he looked back up at her face. Her dark eyes like live stardust. “All men must die.”

“Aye…” Sandor said, as he undid the laces of his trousers, and Imani sat up on her elbows, biting her lip at the sight of his hung cock. “...But enough talk about the Gods, because I have one to worship right here.” He yanked Imani by her ankle and pulled her closer to him, she replied with a hot flurry of anxious giggles, as he pressed his cock against her slit. Imani threw her head back and went to cover her eyes, but she stopped, her curiosity getting the better of her. Sandor pushed into her, causing her to gasp and clenched the bed sheet. She was shocked by how sensitive she was and how unexpectedly good it felt.

“Fuck.” She heard Sandor hiss, he pulled out and looked down. Something about seeing his cock covered with her made him groan from a pleasure born from a deep, dark place and he had to fight off the urge to make an obscene joke about being a ‘blood Hound’. He grabbed her by her hips and started to thrust. Imani moaned, gripping onto the sheets as he fucked her. Through slitted eyes she looked up at him,  he was gnashing his teeth, a few pieces of his brown hair sticking to his forehead from sweat, his skin slightly flushed.

“You feel so fucking good.” He growled, stroking into her faster.

“I--oh--I want it harder.” Imani panted, one hand slipping between her legs to rub the hypersensitive bud above her slit. Imani made the phonetic sound of surprise when he suddenly put both of his legs on his shoulders, leaning down and driving himself deep into her.  “Oh--!” She yelped, feeling him press even harder against the spot inside of her that caused pleasure, the feeling of him there felt amplified, causing an almost maddeningly desirable feeling to start to pool in her core. Sandor let out a growl, when Imani’s hands came up to his back, raking her nails down his skin so hard that he was certain that she might have drawn blood, fitting.

“Harder--ah-- fuck my cunt harder.” Imani panted, and she nearly screamed when he obliged her request.

“Is this hard enou-enough, my lady?” He hissed in her ear from behind clenched teeth. Imani lost her words, her eyes rolling in the back of her head, nails scratching deeper into his back. The room had grown hot, and humid causing Imani’s dark skin glint beautifully with a sheen of sweat, that to him smelled like nectar and sunlight. Imani’s breath hitched with a sudden rush, her face burned, and she licked her lips before she uttered something in the flowery language of her native tongue. Sandor felt her, tighten around him, her cunt squeezing his cock, as her legs trembled and her pretty face contorted into something resembling pain. Sandor didn’t stop, fucking her relentlessly. The slapping sound of their bodies coming together filling his dim quarters. The tightening feeling in his lower abdomen suddenly gave way and he yanked out of her quickly, his pulsing cock twitched, shooting his warm white cum onto her flat stomach. Sandor’s eyes fluttered closed, feeling a small sudden after shock before he removed her legs from his large shoulders and sat back on his knees.

“Fuck... I didn’t know it would feel like that.” Imani purred putting the back of her hand on her moist forehead, a few of her fingers stained crimson. Sandor didn’t say anything only staring at her, as she tried to catch her breath. Braids lying every which way, dewy skinned, blood on her fingers and a tiny bit pooled under her ass. A lot of men would find the sight cringe worthy, but he found it almost painfully captivating, she looked like an artist rendition of far off beauty, a female figure who had the night sky in her skin, hair and eyes. There was probably a goddess who was worshiped by some peoples unknown, whose red flower was celebrated. Imani’s sunny voice interrupted his musings when she sat up on her elbows.

“You really are used to blood.” She smiled. Sandor looked between her thighs and nodded.

“Aye, I told you I’ve done a lot of killing.” He said getting up and walking over to the wash basin. Imani eyed the scratch marks that she left down his back, she had drawn blood, but he didn’t seem to notice nor care.

“What would happen if someone found me here, in your chambers?” Imani asked, slowly standing up. He wet a rag, and then rang it out.

“Nothing, right away, but then someone would find a way to use you against me, I assume.” He said, almost coldly as he wiped her blood off of him. Imani walked over to him, and he hummed at the feeling of her gently kissing the back of his upper arm.

“Are you saying that this is dangerous?” She purred. Sandor turned to face her, and cupped her under her chin. His expression suddenly turned serious as he stared down at her.

“You being here is dangerous.” Sandor said, catching her by surprise. “Your sister marrying Joffrey is dangerous. You're not made for King’s Landing..” He ran his thumb across her bottom lip. “You’re too good for this shit hole... you should leave while you have the chance.” Imani stared up at him and wrinkled her brow.

“Do you want me to leave?” She asked, with a sort of sigh and tilt of her head.

“No, I don’t.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I mean....lets be honest Sandor wouldn't be freaked out my period sex...as long as her pussy isn't shooting fire I think he would be good lmao.


	11. Chapter 11

Ekua took a bite of her sweet bread and her brown eyes glanced up to her little sister. Imani sat across from her in the early, orange morning light. She stared down at her plate that she had yet to touch. Her mind off somewhere else, as she recalled what he had said a few nights ago about King's Landing being treacherous for her and her sisters. She lowered her brow, trying to figure out who would want to harm any of them, her only real worry was about Asha's possible marriage to Joffrey. Yet, through her hounds warnings she mostly focused on his words when she had asked him if wanted her to leave.

“No, I don’t.”

Ekua stared at her from across the round table, but Imani didn’t seem to even notice, face of a distant expression that spoke of sighs and fluttering eyelashes.

“Who is it?” Ekua finally said, snapping Imani out of her musing thoughts of The Hound and how he could make her howl.

“Huh?”

“You haven’t touched your food,” Ekua put her knife down and narrowed her eyes at her sister. “You're doing that thing that you do, “ she said, watching Imani roll her eyes dismissively. “You’re staring off at nothing, huffing, sighing like you want to talk about something but can't."

“I’m just tired, that’s all.” Imani shrugged her smooth brown shoulders, it wasn’t really a lie, she did have a hard time sleeping the night before. The only remedy for the insomnia she found to be touching herself at the thought of Sandor’s dark beard between her legs. She swallowed at the thought and quickly attempted to kick the image from her mind.  

“I would be tired too if I had been sneaking about the Red Keep at all hours of the night.” Her knowledgeable, yet horribly curious sister said casually. Imani quickly looked up at Ekua and in an instant her dark face gave everything away. She went to open her mouth, but her sister cut her off.

“You normally tell me everything.” Ekua uttered, looking slightly wounded by her sister's newfound secrecy.

“You’ve always been so nosey.” Imani laughed, shaking her head and finally picking up her fork to eat. There was a small breeze that fluttered in carrying the scents of King’s Landing around them. Rum, incense and the ever so slight odor of what they know knew that people in the Keep called ‘the stink of Flea Bottom’. Imani picked at her fish, feeling her sister's dark glare still on her, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her cunt still aching from where he had last been. Once again, she tried to banish the thought of him as she sat there, but the mental image persisted this time. Large hands pushing her legs apart, his cock slipping inside of her, the low groan from the back of his throat as he buried himself in her. Imani couldn’t stand it any longer, she finally gave in, needing to talk about him to someone. What a waste not to mention The Hounds unknown bed talents.

“Sandor Clegane.” His name slipped from her mouth and hung in the air between the two sisters. Ekua blinked, her eyes widened and then her mouth took the shape of a surprised ‘O’.

“The Hound?”

“Don’t call him that.” Imani said, with a slight cringe, she truly hated the name. “But, aye.” She watched as Ekua leaned forward in her chair and then sat back again, still surprised. ”Why are you shocked, you’ve seen how he looks at me,” Imani looked down at her plate “How I look at him…”

“Well, I didn’t think you would _actually_ do it.” Ekua urged moving her plate aside so she could put her hands on the table. “Sister, I’ve heard things about him, horrible things,” Her beautiful face turned to worry. “We don’t know men like that back home...are you sure you want to play in that fire?” Imani smiled at her sister, before taking a sip of her water.

“You know I've always loved adventure.” She said, her tone light and utterly dismissive. “Besides, I think most women would take a chance if they knew how good he is.” Ekua perked up, and raised an eyebrow before grabbing the pitcher of wine and pouring a cup.

“You can’t just say that and not continue.” She urged before taking a drink, this morning's breakfast was turning out to be far more interesting than she could have ever imagined. Imani let out a laugh as she got up and walked over to her bed, and took a set on the edge of it.

“Oh, so now you’re intrigued.”

“Well, of course I am now.” Ekua said, watching as her sister sat back, her palms resting on the mattress her head tilted up to the ornate ceiling.

“So you know how big men tend to have smaller…

“Aye.”

“Well…” Imani felt her face grow warm at the mention and thought.

“Are you telling me that things are proportionate?” She asked, before she took a quick drink. Her dark eyebrows working upward as Imani looked at her with a smile and a gleam.

“Very proportionate,” Imani said, her smile, giving way to a smirk that she couldn’t hold back any longer.

“So, how big…?” Ekua went to ask, itching with curiosity. Imani put up both of her index fingers, slowly moving her hands apart until she came to about the size. She let out a loud laugh at the face the shocked face that her sister made.

“Oh my.” Her older sister uttered, causing Imani to laugh even harder as she plopped down on the bed, staring up to the ceiling. “But the question is, does he know how to use it?” Ekua asked, getting up from the table and walking over to sit next to her on the edge of the bed. Imani rolled over, propping her head up with one hand, her ear to ear grin was enough to answer the question alone but she spoke anyway.

“Yes, he does and is is good in other ways too…” she paused, feeling heat flood her cheeks. “His hands and his tongue…” Imani said.

“That's a surprise.” Ekua said, before finishing her cup of wine, there was a lull in the conversation between the sisters and Imani picked at a loose thread on one of the sheets. Ekua looked at her sister, her black lashing pointing downward, a small smile playing across her full lips, obviously thinking about him but Ekua couldn’t help but worry. The Hound had done horrible things, and so had his brother. People feared him, of course, but he also had enemies, people who could have never hoped to beat him in battle, but if they knew of Imani... Ekua cringed inwardly at what might happen to her to get at him.

“Sister…” Imani blinked up at Ekua, still looking dreamy as her head buzzed with thoughts of him.  “Be careful.”

“He won’t hurt me, the Gods know that he could if he wanted to…”

“I don’t mean him.” She said quickly. “Have your fun, but remember this Westeros this isn't the Summer Isles...keep that in mind."

* * *

 

Sandor hadn’t seen her all day, and because of the thought of her he had a restless night. Naked phantom Imani’s playing in his mind, like brown, mischievous faes from folklore. In his bed, in the dark, the smell of her still fresh on his sheets, his mind had been taken over by hot, sticky,  obscene and perverse thoughts. The wet, slick sound that her cunt made when drove himself into her, the feeling of his tongue running along her brown nipples caused him not to sleep until his lust had been pleasured. The sensation of spit and his fist around his cock couldn’t come close to the wet, warmth between her legs but it sufficed to drain the poison.

Sandor had hoped to see her looking like the blooming flower that she was, but the only Xe sister he laid eyes on was little Lady Asha who was with Princess Marcella, who seemed to adore her potential sister in law. In the brown little girl could see a faint outline of Imani, and the draft of the woman one day Asha would be. As he idly looked at her he wondered what the woman who gave birth to the three beauties looked like, whoever she was she must have been stunning to the point of pain to have given rise to such beautiful creatures. Sandor saw Little Asha wave goodbye to the princess as they headed their separate ways, the

“Hello, Ser.” The littlest Xe said, tilting her head back to look up at him.

“I told you, I’m not a knight.” Sandor grunted, looking down at the girl.

“I know, but I’m just going to keep calling you that anyway.” She said, sounding far more like a child than she usually did. She looked at him, her large eyes, obviously going over the burned scars on the side of his face, yet she showed no emotion, not disgust nor curiosity towards them. “Could you take me to my quarters? Please, Ser?” The girl asked, with a smile playing on her lips and he cringed inwardly at the title again, but how was she to know his hate for knights?

“Of course.” Sandor nodded, and they walked down the red hallway that had gone dim at sunset.

“Do you fancy my sister?” Asha blurted, looking up at him, watching his expression shift to slight surprise. He parted his lips to speak, a lie in this moment would have been the best, but the little girl continued, sounding like a gossiping old woman.  “People that fancy girls fancy my sister, but she likes you.” Asha spoke as if she had told him some great big secret.

“I don’t know about all of that, little lady.” He said, humoring the child.

“But she does, though, I promise you.”

“I don’t think your sister will be happy if she found out that you told me that she likes me in such a way.” Sandor chuckled, shaking his head, his expression giving nothing of his already hazy, hot affair with her sister away.

“Oh please, she’s my sister and her business is my business.” Asha snorted. Sandor almost laughed at her. She was a cunning little thing for a girl of her age, but even so she saw their glances, how an adolescent would see them, still innocent when they were far from it.  Yet she hadn’t been wrong about the fancying part.

\--

After he had escorted Lady Asha back to her chambers, he headed to his, still yet to catch a glimpse of his brown and feathered damsel that day. He opened his chamber door, wishing that he would see her lying back on his bed as she had done previously sneaking into his chambers, but she was not there. Yet, something caught his eye,  a folded piece of paper that had been slipped under his heavy wooden door.

“The fuck?” He uttered as he bent down and picked it up, unfolding it his eyes taking in the script that could have been taken for the leafy yet, slightly wild scroll of a younger, dizzy minded teenage girl.

 

_There is a secluded spot, riverside of The Red Keep, a stony, rocky overlook to the water. The way to it are slightly crumbling stone stairs. Do you know the place? I bet you do. Meet me there when the castle sleeps._

 

The little note was not signed, but she had painted her lips and pressed them to the paper, leaving the coral colored mark behind.

* * *

 

The water crashed against the sandy stone, the moonlight casting its dim white light, illuminating things just enough to see and not a single bit more. The stars overhead glittered, and somewhere off in the distance a late to sleep seagull squawked. Imani sat, watching the waves, with her knees to her chest feeling a sudden ping of homesickness at that moment. She looked over her shoulder to the stairs when she heard the unmistakable sound of clanking metal armor and the chiming of chainmail. In the dim moonlight, his form seemed even larger and more formidable. Sandor watched as she got to her feet slowly, he could tell that her gown was snug, fitting tightly around her hips and waist.

“No one ever comes down here.” He said, as Imani walked closer to him, an illusion of the moonlight and water gave her dark skin a tiny hue of blue.

“I figured as much.” Imani purred, finally within arms reach of him. She ran her hand down the front of his leather, metal-studded armor. Another wave crashed against the rocks and before Imani could inhale a breath to speak, Sandor cupped her chin roughly, bend down and crushed his lips against hers. Imani moaned, stepping up on her tip toes, her hands grabbing at his armor. Her fluttering tongue playing is mouth, causing him to groan lowly at the feeling. Even her spit was sweet, like thin flowing nectar. Sandor was shocked when she caught his bottom lip between her teeth and bit him rather hard. She pulled away, as if surveying his reaction. He touched his bottom lip with his fingertips to see if she had drawn blood, she had not. Suddenly, Imani let out a loud giggle accompanying a swell of glee as she pounced on him, somehow summoning enough force to cause him to titer backwards and fall to the ground. He felt one of her long black braids,  tickle his face as she loomed above him, the throbbing heat between her legs radiating against his already stiffening cock.

“You smell good enough to eat.” He groaned, as her smooth cheek rubbed against his harsh, scratchy beard.

“Well, you're very good at eating me.” Imani laughed, before kissing him again, this time even more fervently than before. He ran his large hand up her thighs, and gripped her ass. Her fingers played in his brown hair, and she bucked her hips against his crotch.

“Are you still bleeding?” He asked against her lips.

“No,” she whispered shortly before going back to his mouth. He reached up and undid the neck tie that held up her gown, causing it to slip down and expose her tits He pinched her right nipple, causing her yelp and throw her head back.

“I couldn’t sleep last night because of you.” He growled, sitting up to face her, slightly tugging on the hard nub, still caught between his fingers.

“What? Did you use your hand as you thought of me?” Imani purred, causing him to sneer. “Did you come into your fist while you imagined coming into my twat?” Her obscene words causing his cock to twitch against her inner thigh. He grabbed her by her face and stared at her.

“You better watch saying things like that to me, my lady.” He growled with a warning. Imani leaned in closer to him and with a smile she darted out her tongue and licked his lips.

“I wish you could finish right in me.” She whispered and not a second later she found herself on her back. Sandor hissed, pushing up the skirt of her gown in a hurry, and before she could even gather her thoughts, he grabbed her by her waist, his needy cock slipping against her slick lips before he slammed into her.

“AHH!” Imani cried out, as he stretched her with one thrust, burying himself to the hilt

“So wet…” He groaned, watching Imani’s eyes slightly roll in their sockets as he started to move his hips. He grabbed her by her smooth legs and forced her to rest her ankles on his shoulders as he pushed himself deeper. “You like that?” Sandor asked lowly, thrusting harder.

“Ohhh yesss--” Imani yelped and he could  already feel her quivering around him. He moved one hand between her legs and used his thumb to rub the bud between her wet, lower, pink lips. Imani whimpered and arched her back at the sensation.

“Is that what you-fuck-what you like?”

“Yes--Yes! Harder! Fuck me harder!” Imani screamed desperately, Sandor laughed before covering her mouth with his large hand and she could taste the salt on his skin.

“Does the lady want me to give it to her rough?” He panted and Imani nodded her head vigorously. “Good.” Sandor yanked out of her, turned her over on her belly and forced her up her knees. She tried to get up on her hands, but he put his palm on the small of her back and pushed her down. He took a moment and stroked himself as he watched her wiggle against his hand. He chuckled, cocking his hand back he slapped her right on her ass, hard. Imani let out a loud cry at the sting that ran through her body, but the yelp turned into a hiss and then into a moan. Sandor grabbed his cock and pushed back inside of her, Imani bit her lip and clawed at the stone under her. The slapping sound of their bodies coming together mixed with the crash of the waves.

“Feels--ah--so good!” Imani panted, starting to the feel the pressure building deep inside of her cunt. Sandor grabbed her ass watching his cock slip in and out of her, coated in her clear, slick wetness.

“You even have a nice asshole.” He groaned, his words causing her to burst with hot laughter.

“Ha-hah-ohhh-haha, don’t say things like that when we--haha--are fucking! You’re making me, ahhh--laugh.” Imani sputtered between giggles and moans.

“I’m being serious.” He sucked his thumb quickly before he slipped it into her tight asshole. Her legs tensed, she let out a surprised squeak, the sound of which was completely adorable to him.

“Ohhh! Fuck!” Imani groaned, as he moved his thumb in and out as he continued to thrust. He moved his hips faster and harder, using his other hand to keep her top half down on the chilly stone.

“Next time we fuck--ah--I’m going to put my cock right this tight little ass.” Sandor hissed in her ear. Imani’s eyes widened and her lip twitched as she struggled to find words, do to the pleasure building in her core.

“Yo--you're so fucking vulgar!” Imani cried, on the verge of her orgasm. Sandor ran his teeth along the crook of her neck and chuckled.

“Aye, but you like it.” He whispered before sucking her neck. Imani’s eyes rolled, and she inhaled a lung of air before she came undone.

“Ah--yes--yes! Ah, Sandor!” That was the only thing get could make out because the rest of her words ended up being gibberish, a smash of a common tongue and her naive speak that made no coherent sense. She shook, legs tensing just as her twat did around his rock hard cock. The Hound didn’t stop, he reached his other hand around and rubbed the swollen nub between her legs.

“Wait! No--ah--” Imani panted, trying to pull his hand away from the over sensitive bundle of nerves. “It's too much! I can’t--!” She yelped but he only chuckled darkly, still fucking her harder and harder his thumb still in her ass. It was too much sensation for her to handle at once.

“No, fucking come again.” He growled, nipping at her neck. Imani bit her lip and tears of pleasure pooled in her dark eyes. Sandor gnashed his teeth, feeling the tightening in his lower abdomen.

“Fuck!” Imani hissed, as the sudden jolt ran through her and she lost her voice, only able to manage broken gasps. Sandor cursed, removing his thumb from her ass and from between her legs. He grabbed her by her hips, his nails digging into her soft skin as he fucked her relentlessly hard, desperate to finish now. He threw his head back and yanked out of her, his cock twitched and he spilled his white, warm seed on the ground.  Sandor bucked his hips with a small after shock and flicked his hair out of his eyes, trying to catch his breath. Imani plopped down on her stomach and then rolled over on her back, savoring the breeze that blew off of the water and chilled her hot burning skin. Re-lacing his trousers, he looked down at her. Imani laid there on her are back, tits pointing starward, chest heaving as she tried to gasp for air.  Imani stretched, sighed, and then ran her hand her stomach and then between her dewy dark thighs. Slipping two fingers between her slick lower lips to see just how wet he had made her. Through the sounds of King’s Landing at night Imani heard him chuckle.

“What?” she asked, blinking up at him. Her expression pleased yet still dazed in moonlit afterglow. Sandor shook his head, got to his feet and held out his hand for her. Imani smiled and took it and he helped her up.  The soft thin fabric of the top of her gown slipped, forward, threatening to cause the whole dress to fall off of her, Imani giggled as she tried to hold it up.

“Here, let me.” He uttered, stepping behind her. He swept her long braids off of her neck, and the exact spot on the curve where he had sucked didn't give anything away. If she had been lighter he was sure there would have been a purplish passionate bruise, but her dark skin kept their secrets. He redid the ties that held up the top of her gown, securing it around her long neck.

“This reminds me of home.” Imani whispered, looking over to the Blackwater. The darkness of the night gave the illusion that they were somewhere else, not the dirty, busy capital, but the smells coming off of the water were all wrong. Sandor was just about to press his lips against the top of her warm head, a confusing feeling wielding in an untouched part of him, but before he could speak or kiss her Imani let out a yawn and shook her braids out.

“Gods, I’m so sleepy.” She said, turning on the ball of her slippered foot to face him.

“It is rather late, shall I take you back?” He asked.

“How chivalrous of you, Clegane.” Imani said, playfully putting one hand to chest and fluttering her eyelashes. He scoffed and rolled his eyes at her words.

“Aye, but the things I just did to you weren't very chivalrous.” He watched her bite her lip.

“Well, I believe gallantness is overvalued sometimes.” Her hand lowered and she put her palm against his crotch. Sandor growled, reaching up and grabbing her by her braids, yanking her head back. A moan bubbled from Imani’s lips and she wiggled. She stained on her tip toes, wishing he would kiss her, but Sandor didn’t, knowing that if he tasted those full lips again her dress would end up coming right back off.

“We should go, my lady because if we stay here a moment longer my cock will find it’s way back into your tight twat and I will fuck you so hard you’ll have a hard time sitting.” Imani licked her lips, knowing that was a promise.

“It is rather late, we should go.” She whispered, but obviously she was contemplating forcing to make good on his words.

“Smart choice, my lady.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

In the warm, yellow, orange candlelight of her chambers Sandor watched her. She slowly pulled off her black feather shawl, dropping it to the cool stone floor. Her bright yellow, silk and lace gown slipping off of her deep brown, smooth shoulders. He wondered if she knew that she had been wearing his knighted house colors.

Tightening his lip, he groaned as he ogled  her dark skin, no matter how many times he saw it, he was still in awe of its smoothness. Perfect unblemished skin, far from him and his scars. Her gold jewelry glinted in the dancing candlelight as she stepped out of her beaded slippers.  Imani smirked, watching his hungry eyes dart over her body, from her face to her tits, flat abdomen, the tuft of black, curly wooly hair between her thighs, to her feet and then back again.

“What Clegane?” Imani purred, with a playful smile. He took a breath as she started moving her hips, the snakelike motion spellbinding to him.

“Mm…” he hummed adoringly, watching her slowly dance towards him as he sat on the edge of her bed. “Gods, you’re pretty.” His words caused Imani to ripple with a hot giggle. Now with arm's reach of her, he yearned for the feeling of her skin in his large palm. Imani let out a sizzling hiss, and with a chime of the bangles at her ankles she quickly moved her leg up, putting her bare foot at the center of his chest and pushed him back.

“I said no touching.”

Sandor lowered his brow at her and licked his lips slowly.

“I’m pretty sure you’re touching me.” He said, glancing down at her bare delicate foot that was against his chest.

“I can touch you, you just can’t touch me.” Imani smiled, removing her foot and then straddling him. He groaned at the heat of her body as she flowed into his large lap, the only clothing separating them being his tunic and trousers.

“So, you mean to be a little tease?” He asked, fighting an overwhelming urge to kiss her full, plump lips as she started doing the same sultry hip movement on his crotch.

“The point, Sandor is to make you want me.” Imani beamed charmingly. She leaned back, resting her hands on his knees, still grinding her hips.

“Aye, but I already want you.” He said from behind clenched teeth as she moved. Slow, and slower. Tormenting him with her hips, and a feline smile.

“Oh, I know you do.” Imani breathed, feeling him hard against her already. Sandor huffed, grabbing, clenching the bed sheets, actively fighting back The Hound that was scratching to have its way with her. Imani leaned forward, her plush lips an infinitesimal distance from his.”I wonder if I could make you come like this.” She whispered, causing him to let out a deep throated growl. "Oh, I bet I could...if I just keep riding you..." Right before he was about to lose his control, and fuck her into the mattress Imani got up, removing her radiating heat from his crotch and he instantly missed it.

“Do you remember the vulgar thing you said to me last time by the water?” She asked, running her hand over her right breast and down her abdomen.

“I said a lot of vulgar things to you last time, my lady.” Sandor said, palming at his cock.

“Well, I do remember you talking about putting your cock in my tight little ass…” Imani said and Sandor’s eyebrows shot up and a smile came to his lips.

“Aye, I do remember saying that.” He stood up, leering down at her and licked his lips. Imani smirked before brushing past him to kneel on the bed.

“Have you ever done this to a woman?” She asked, bringing over. Sandor groaned at the sight of her smooth, ample ass.

“No,” he said simply, running his large hand over her bottom, the main reason which he had never taken a woman that way was because the whores charged double for that. Of course he wanted to, what man didn’t? But he didn’t want to so bad to pay twice the price. Yet, here she was, Imani Xe in all of her beauty on her hands and knees practically asking him to fuck her ass. He stared at her to savor the moment. Imani was about to say something but her would be words were cut short when she felt his tongue against her pussy. She yelped and looked over her shoulder to see him on his knees, mouth pressed against her.

“Ahhh...if you’re going to lick me then let me flip over.” She went to move but both of his hands shot up to hold her in place. He groaned, tasting her sweet wetness his he lapped over her slit and then to the swollen bud. “Ohh…” Imani moaned, gripping the sheets. Sandor snickered to himself watching her toes curl out of the corner of his eye.

“Eeeek!” Imani squeaked and perked up with she felt his tongue somewhere else. “That’s not my cunt!” Her words were met with only his chuckle as he pulled away and smiled.

“I know,” he growled lowly, going to return his mouth to her asshole. Imani bit her lip and tried to pull away, but given his strength, she couldn't hope to wiggle away.  Sandor snarled and bit one of her plump cheeks, causing Imani to let out a whimper, but the alluring sound was followed by an excited giggle. He licked at her tight hole again.

“Ah! Sandor don’t--” Imani protested, lazily reaching back to swat him away, but she quickly gave up on protesting. He flicked his tongue, Imani bit her lip and a hidden blush lurked under her dark skin from the pleasure. Sandor pulled away and slapped her ass.

“You’re so barbaric…” Imani panted.

“I am, my lady, but just want to do disgusting, barbaric things to you.” Sandor whispered. Imani laughed and crawled up further up on the bed once he let her go.  Reaching out for towards the wooden nightstand, she grabbed up a golden cup.

She sat in front of him holding the cup in one palm and she reached out for his hand. She dipped two of his fingers into the slick liquid that he quickly realized was olive oil.  Imani took the goblet and set it down, without words, Sandor pushed Imani back and in second later he was on her. His two fingers reaching between her legs, past her cunt to the tight hole just beneath it. She groaned, as he slipped them inside, index finger first and then the middle. She would have cried out, but he kissed her first. Crushing his lips against hers, so hard that he bumped her pearly front teeth. Imani parted her lips to moan into his mouth, and Sandor took the opportunity to taste her spit.

“Gods, you’re so tight here.” Sandor growled, as he slowly moved his fingers and out of her.

“Mmm. Faster.” She demanded, brushing her lips against the rough hair of his beard. Sandor chuckled, obliging her request. She panted hotly against his cheek, bucking her hips. His cock twitched as he watched her beautiful face, as she wrinkled her brow and parted her glistening lips.

"Yesssss. Sandor...."

The chamber smelt of wine, burning candles, olive oil and her the scent of warmth and sunlight that permanently lingered on her skin all combined to create the hazy, dreamy fragrance of lust. Sandor smiled to himself and the fact that no one would ever guess what was happening behind that heavy wooden door.

“Do you want me to fuck you here?” He whispered in her ear.

“Yes…”

“I want to hear you say it, my lady.” Sandor ran his teeth along the hot crook of her smooth, brown neck. “Say how much you want The Hound to fuck your ass.”

Imani groaned and bit her lip. “Sandor, I- I want you to fuck my ass…”

“Say ‘Hound’,” he growled.

“No--I won’t call you that.” Imani panted, she reached between her legs and found that she was obscenely wet.

“Just fucking say it.”

“No--,” Imani shook her head emphatically. “No, your name is Sandor Clegane and I want you to---” She lost herself for a moment in the pleasure but quickly regained her composure. “I want you to take me…” The breathy yearning in her voice made him give in, he pulled his fingers out from inside of her. Imani panted, her brown body glistening with a light sheen of sweat as her chest heaved with deep ragged breaths. Undoing the laces od his trousers Sandor leered down at her, watching as she ran her  fingers through the slick, wet lips of her beautiful cunt that was dripping nectar.

“On your knees, my lady.” He said, and Imani beamed with a smile before flipping over. She wiggled her ass impatiently, hearing him pick up the cup of oil. With a yelp and a jumped, Imani felt feeling him pour some of the oil down the crack of her ass. Sandor covered his cock with the slick liquid as well, he grabbed the base and gently pressed it against her. Imani gripped the sheets, as he slowly pushed forward. Being skilled at sex, Imani had partaken in the act of anal sex before, but never with someone so strong or hung. If he wasn't careful, Sandor knew that he could hurt and in turn he was far more gentle than she had expected or wanted him to be. Slowly his cock slipped into her, and Imani let out a small whimper obviously from pain.

“I’m hurting you.” He whispered, even though The Hound wanted to thrust himself to the hilt, yet he fought the animalistic urge.

“No, it’s okay...more.”  She whispered, he pushed further in, savoring the low moan that she let out.

“Seven hells…” Sandor hissed, now mostly buried in her. She felt fantastic, he wanted to thrust, but he waited until he was sure she was ready. With a pant and a small tremble Imani spoke.

“Give it to me..."

Sandor grabbed her hips, and started to thrust cautiously at first, but Imani’s constant wriggling made it clear to him that she wanted more. He grit his teeth, and stroked in and out of her at a steady pace.

“Yessss...,” she hissed, loving how good he felt inside of her. Her toes curled, she rubbed the sensitive nub between her dark thighs. “Just like that!”

“You like it in your tight ass, don’t you?” Sandor snarled, already feeling the growing tension in his lower abdomen. Imani was about to scream out an hysterical ‘yes!’ but he reached around and clasped his hand over her mouth. Imani whimpered against his palm in utter pleasure. “Oh...Gods-can I finish inside of you?”

With a nod she gave her permission, eyes rolling into the back of her head. She wanted him to feel that deep pulsing sensation just as much as he wanted to give it her.

“MMmm!” Was the only sound that she could make behind his palm as the sudden flurry of ecstasy ran through her, sparking from her core. Her eyes watered and for a few hot, hazy, seconds Imani felt as if she lost all account of who she was. Sandor threw his head back and let out a string of vulgarities as his cock twitched deep inside of her. Sandor clenched his teeth relishing the feeling of spilling his hot seed into her. His hips jerked, a few more times before he slowly pulled out. Licking his lips he watched as a bit of his white,  pearlescent, cum seep out of her. Sandor removed his hand from her mouth and Imani plopped down on her stomach on the bed with a satisfied sigh. “Damn...that was…”

“Marvelous…” she purred, rolling over on her back and looking up at him with drowsy eyes. He nodded and flicked his hair out of his eyes.

“I think the oil might have ruined these sheets.” He uttered with a chuckle.

“It was worth it.” Imani said with a playful giggle.

* * *

 

The city was a flurry with excitement for Princess Myrcella’s name day celebrations that were to take place the up and coming week. Yet, even though the pretty princess and younger brother were both excited for the festivities, the eldest prince was not.

“I don’t know why anyone would care about her name day.” Hissed Joffrey, as Sandor walked behind him on down the long, dusty red halls of The Keep. Sandor said nothing as they continued down the hall, his mind thinking of only her and how her chambers smelt of oil and wine.

“And of course she wants a ball" Joffrey scuffed. "The only reason I’m even going to attend that stupid thing is because Lady Asha will be there.”

Sandor glanced over at him with the mention of the smallest Xe’s name. He could picture all of the sisters, wearing their best, headdresses made of feathers, covered in more jewels than usual, possibly outshining even the queen when it came to beauty, to him at least. There was a fleck of bitterness for while Imani danced, and drank at the ball, he could only watch from afar. To everyone else he was The Hound and she was the onyx daughter of a Summer Isle prince, titles, nobility and rank still defining them.

“When do girl usually get their flowers?” Joffrey asked, the sentence caught Sandor off guard.

“Around thirteen, my prince.” He uttered, watching and hiding what was disgust as he noticed a sadistic smile creep into the corners of Joffrey’s thin lips. “Do you think Lady Asha has had her blood yet, Dog?”

Sandor had become very good at hiding his emotions when it came to the things that his prince said,did and ordered of him but the mention of Imani’s child sister in such a way made his gut twist. It wasn't uncommon for old men to take young brides who just become women, but it was clear that one day Joffrey would do something thing monstrous to her, to the sister of the woman he…

“I don’t know my prince, that seems like a question for one of her sisters.”  He said, detesting the images that invaded his mind, images that he knew would become real if Joffrey Baratheon married Asha Xe.  He knew Joffrey had a sickness, everyone knew it. They could all see the parallels between him and The Mad King. And much like Aerys Targaryen Second of His Name; Joffrey would rape and beat his wife, a wife was currently going to be the Asha Xe. Sandor felt his gut in his chest, at the idea that one day he would be the only thing standing between Joffrey and the little Lady, that shared blood with _his_ Imani. He realized that in that moment, he couldn’t let it happen, not to her... let it him be some other poor girl’s nightmare...

 


	13. Chapter 13

He knocked twice, then a third and then forth. Clenching his jaw, Sandor, knew she was in her chambers, where else would she be this time a night? His thoughts had been gnawing at him all day, he just needed to speak to her. Gnashing his teeth, he raised his hand to knock again, but the door unbolted and opened before he could.

The golden candlelight of her chambers filled his vision and standing there past the threshold was Imani. Sandor’s lips parted and a slack jawed, blank expression came to his usually scowling face as he gazed at her. She was dripping wet, only dressed in a gauzy white robe that clung to the curves and hills over her body, the sight of which was somehow even more titillating than seeing her fully in the nude.

Imani rested her head against the dark, wooden doorframe, as she peered up at him with a playful glint in her onyx eyes.

His gaze settled on her breasts, ogling her brown beautifully hardened nipples under the thin, revealing, wet fabric.

“I was taking a bath,” she said, with a smile. Sandor closed his eyes and tried to gather himself, but she was rather distracting, looking like something conjured up from the depths of his fantasies. “Come in.” Imani said, moving away from the door frame and strolled back back into the languorous glow  of her chambers. Sandor follows behind her and then bolted the door behind them.

“Usually, Lady’s have handmaidens to help them with bathing.” He said, noticing the smell of incense that hung heavy in the air.

“I just request to have a few servant girls to fill my bath.” Imani shrugged, and he watched her walk over to the steaming tub in the corner of her chambers. “I can bathe myself,” she peeled off the wet robe and it plopped to the floor, exposing her bare smooth back to him.

He watched her as she carefully piled her braided hair on top of her head before slowing sinking into the tub. A ping of unsureness waved through him in that moment as she leaned back, extending one beautiful dark, brown leg out of the water and looked over at him.

“Are you just going to watch me?” Imani asked, with a tilt of her head. Sandor grabbed a chair from the table and pulled it up in front of the tub and sat down.

“Aye, maybe.” He uttered,  Imani smiled sweetly, but he knew that she was reading his expression, having the same observant look about her dark eyes as her little inquisitive sister did. The Xe daughter discerning glare, which in Imani was far more eerie given how her chamber candle light reflected in her black eyes at that exact moment.

She rested her chin on the edge of the tube and stared up at his large form. Reminding him of water pixies from children's folklore. Even though she was far from untouched, she a honey like, innocence to her, that her sisters also shared in a lesser degree. Sandor was well aware that she was far from stupid, but he knew that she was slightly naive to the realization of what would happen to her child sister if she was allowed to marry the prince. Such violence, such horrors of the west were unknown to her and her Summer Isle upbringing.

Glancing down at his large hands, he struggled to understand why the words that were about to leave his mouth were going to spill over. It was something odd, unnatural to him, but there was no stopping it.

“My lady, do you know why the royal executioner Ser Ilyn Payne has no tongue?” Sandor asked, glancing over at Imani. She blinked and shook her head.  

“Because Aerys Targaryen had it cut out when word got back to him that Ser Ilyn had ran his mouth  about how Tywin Lannister, the previous Hand of the Kind actually ran the country. For whatever fucking stupid reason, I’m about to say something to you and know that if the prince ever knew what I'm about to say he would attempt to have something worse done to me.” He said, and Imani lifted her head off of the edge of the tub and blinked, giving him her full interest. Sandor licked his lips before speaking again. “There will come a day when King Joffrey Baratheon beats his queen, there will be a day when he rapes his queen.” Sandor whispered, and at his words Imani’s face twisted into horror before she covered her mouth with her wet hand. “And if that queen is sadly your darling sister, I will be the only one standing between him and her, because the knights that that takes their oaths serve him no matter what he does. If he was to order them to hold her down as he had his way with her, they would do it. If he was to tell them to beat her, they would do it."

Imani sat there in the water, eyes wide, lip trembling, as she stared up at him, utterly looking horrified at what he just said. “He will be her nightmare, do you understand that my lady?” Sandor asked, surprised when he was moved by the glinting tears that gathered in her dark eyes, causing them to shimmer like stars.

She brought her legs to her chest, and hung her head and uttered "I know..."

“Then why do you--” Sandor was shocked when Imani snapped at him, the tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Why? You’re asking me why, when you are the one that serves that little monster?” She hissed and for the first time he saw the panther who clawed its way out of usual kitten like disposition. Sandor clenched his jaw, most would fear being sliced in two by him if they even dared talk to him that way, but Imani didn't fear him in the slightest. “If Asha Xe decides that she wishes to marry Joffrey Baratheon and become the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms that is her choice, not me, nor my sister, father or our gods, your old gods or new gods or the stars above can change that. Summer Isle girls are allowed to choose their fates even if the choice they make is wrong. It might sound stupid to you Westerners, but that is our culture. That is how we do things. I can’t stop her from --” Imani was cut short when Sandor suddenly stood up, knocking back the chair, it hit the floor with a loud smack. He reached down and yanked her out of the bathtub, water splashing and spilling over onto the stone floor.

Imani yelped, stumbling as he pulled her out. Sandor grabbed her by both of her wet, shoulders tightly and stared down at her. He was seething with frustration, he wanted to shake some sense into her, but knew that he could easily harm her. He couldn’t understand why she would cling to her traditions in the face of unavoidable pain for her own blood. Before he could speak something possibly hurtful to her Imani reached up, her wet fingertips touching the burnt side of his face. She didn’t flinch at the feeling of the rough mangled skin, only staring back at him with eyes still slightly glittering with tears but now they had grown gentle and calm.

“Why do you tell me this now?” She breathed, causing Sandor’s expression to shift to something softer, there was a flicker of what seemed like sheepishness that danced across his face at her words. Slightly he leaned in to her touch, before he sighed and stifled back the unknown, foreign feeling that was creeping into the shadow of his soul. There was a crippling silence and he only swallowed he blinked and looked down. Imani could tell that he wanted to say something, and she was almost sure of what those words would be but he lowered his brow, pushing the emotions away, burying Sandor Clegane under The Hound. He acted on impulse, demanded by his loins, not his heart to grab her. Imani gasped as he yanked her by her dewy knobby wrist and threw her on to the bed. She shivered, still wet from her bath, all goose flesh, looking up at him with a bitten lip and slightly surprised, yet disgustingly alluring expression

She watched him, his aura was that of an animal that was unsure if he should pounce or not. Sandor gnashed his jaw, loathing how painfully captivating she looked, dark skin glistening from the water that dampened it, reflecting the yellow, orange candle light, her piled high hair now daring to come undone. Grabbing her by her ankles, he pulled down to the edge of the bed, wishing she was dressed just so he had something to rip at, something to take his frustrations out on. Yet, for all of this strength, and usual terror her Imani didn’t flinch nor stir with anything even close to fear. Sandor crawled on top of her, his large hands on her narrow waist.

"How can you go from unspeakably kind to trying to scare me?” she whispered.

“You have no idea what you're talking about, you silly girl." He growled lowly leering down at her.

“Please, spare me the words of 'The Hound', because no matter what you stay to me, I know that true monsters don’t care about the wellbeing of girls.” Her hand up, running her fingers through his brown wavy hair. "I see you, Clegane," she leaned up and gently kissed the burned side of his face. The feeling of her soft lips against his mangled skin, caused him to sigh, almost as if he was pained by the soft touch. Sandor yanked away, releasing his grip from her waist.

“I’m sorry I--” She searched for words, unsure of why he recoiled from her. He didn’t say anything only eyeing her with an expression that she thought was many things, anger, frustration, confusion and even a tinge of blue hued sadness. He didn’t understand how he got there, how this island girl could pull his strings, playing him like a harp. Like witchcraft had tied a golden thread to his heart, plucking at it and caused him to feel things he had never imagined. He was a killer, a murderer, a dog, and a monster, but for all of his foulness Sandor Clegane found that his weakness was the sun kissed beauty who lay under him. For all of his battle training and way with a sword he was ill prepared for the fondness that flooded every inch him for her.

It’s late, my lady. I should leave and let you sleep.”

“Please, stay with me for a bit...” Imani whispered softly, her small hands clenching at the sheets as she sat up to face him. Her sweet, innocent voice working to soothe the dread that he felt towards sentiment like a song. He glared down at her, with a slight hint of vexation. She certainly did not know to play his strings well.

“Do you have any wine?” He asked and Imani smiled and nodded.

* * *

 

The seagulls in over The Blackwater were almost excruciatingly loud in the early morning, squawking in tandem over and over again. Imani groaned and peaked her eyes open, the candles had long burnt out, and the sun was just then raising up the horizon, causing a pale, dust purple hue to bathe her chambers. She flipped over and a girlish smile came to her lips, when she saw that Sandor was still there, lying beside her. Imani stifled a giggle at the fact that her bed was too small for such an uncommonly large man, his legs hanging off of the edge of the mattress. Sometime during the night he must of decided to shed his heavy armor now only wearing his trousers. They had drank quite a bit, and she remembered him being surprised by how much she could drink for being such a small person. She had grown up on Summer Isle rum after all but of course there was no way she could out drink him, if she even tried she would probably drink herself to death. Imani rested her head on his chest and let out a small content sigh and ran her fingers through his chest hair. Sandor grunted, and shifted his weight, feeling Imani’s pulsating warmth against him. She felt his large hand caress her bare shoulder, she wiggled and blinked up at him with a glowing smile.

“Your bed is so fucking small.” He groaned, sleepily.

“No my bed is normal size, you’re the one that is too big for it.” Imani chuckled before she went to slip out of bed, but he grabbed her by her wrist. A bird tweeted beautifully outside of her window and she watched as he bit his lip. Without a single word Imani slowly straddled him, letting out a little gasp at the feeling if his very hard arousal against her.

“Oh, Clegane were you dreaming about me?” She bucked her hips and he groaned. Leaning forward, she ran her lips along the crook of his neck.

“Ah--” Sandor moaned, as she sucked hard enough that he was sure she would leave a mark, by her mischievous giggle he knew that was probably her intent. Moving her hands down she undid the laces of his trousers and wrapped her warm fist around the base of this, throbbing cock. Imani pulled away from his neck surveying the purplish bruise she left behind with a satisfied smile on her face. Sandor audibly groaned watching her spit her fingertips and apply the wetness to her cunt. She lifted up and ran the head of his cock along her slit, tilting her head, her eyes fluttered closed with a mix of sleepy dreaminess and slight pain as she slowly sunk down onto him.

“Fuck…” he whispered. Imani licked her lips as she started to move. Sandor struggled with wanting to grab her and fuck her hard, but he controlled himself, letting her have her way with him. Tilting back and putting her warm palms on his bare chest, Imani moved faster. She swept her braids out of her face and clenched her teeth, beautiful face twisting into a slight snarl.

“D-do you like the way I feel?”

“Aye--” He panted. With a breathless hot giggle, Imani leaned forward, moving her hips up and down with a perfect bounding rhythm and pace. The wet, slick sounds of her cunt slipping down his cock over and over again filled her dimly lit morning chambers. He let out a gasping breath, his large hand reaching up to grab her ass as she continued to ride him.

“You're going to make me fucking cum.” He whispered, trying his best to hold back from the peak, but it was starting to become a losing a battle due to how she moved her hips.  

“Ah--the-that's the goal... I like it when you finish.” Imani panted, starting to lose herself as well, her motions became more fragmented and desperate. Sandor took the opportunity to hold her in place, causing Imani to whimper in a demanding protest, but he ignored her, gnashing his teeth as he thrust up deep inside of her.

“Ah!” She yelped, throwing her head back.

"Mm. Your twat is so slick for me." Sandor panted, as she grew wetter with each stroke of his thick cock. He glanced down watching with utter delight the sight of her taking him over and over again.

Imani bit her lip and pinched one of her pebbled brown nipples, letting a hot hiss from behind her perfect teeth. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes rolled as far back as they could. A swell of words formed behind her lips but were cut shorted, when the building pressure snapped deep inside of her. With no yell or scream Imani came, clenching her eyes shut and shuttering. Sandor felt her cunt squeezed around his cock tightly, her body ordering him to come as well. Stroking in and out of her a few more times he swore vulgar things, about her body parts and what he wanted to do with them. Uttering in the heat of passion about how he wished he could fill her pretty, tight summer cunt with his sticky seed.

“Ugh--fucking fuck--!” Sandor growled, so lost in his desires that he almost made good on his crude, dirty talk, but right before he had a moment of clarity in the otherwise clenching, spasm of his ecstasy He quickly lifted her up off of his cock, just before it twitched with the hot pulse of his white, warm cum. Dropping his head back in utter exhaustion, Sandor let her hips go and Imani now filled with just fucked vigor, hopped off of the bed and made her way to the table and picked up a fruit from a basket. She heard him groan and yawn from the bed as she picked up a knife and started to cut through the orange and green gradient fruit. Sandor stared at her back in his post orgasmic haze, silently appreciating the beauty in her shoulder blades and spine.

“I need to go.” He uttered, as if trying to convince himself more than her of this duty.

Imani turned around, her hands still working on the fruit that she held.

“I know.”

“What’s that?” He inquired.

“A mango.” She said as if it was obvious. “Have you ever had one?”

“No.”

Imani chuckled and shook her head, finally cutting through the fruit splitting it in two. “Ah, right. They don’t grow here. What a shame.” She threw him, one half and he caught it. “Don’t eat the skin, it’s bitter.”

Sandor took a bite of the orange smooth center, growing lowly at the sweet, fresh exotic taste.

“Mmm.” He chewed and then a smile came to his lips.“This taste just like your twat, you know.” He said to her. Imani blinked and then let out a loud, flurry of laugher, putting her hand to her bare chest in honest surprise at the odd compliment.

“Gods, thank you I do eat a lot of them.

* * *

 

Lord Varys made his way down the dawn lit halls of The Red Keep, heading to a meeting with one of his many little birds to see if they had any new whispers for him. Yet, down the still empty hallway, he stopped when he spied The Hound stepping out of a chamber door. Varys slipped behind the nearest corner, knowing that spiders were not the friends of dogs. He watched as The Hound looked back towards the doorway, his expression far more gentle than Varys had ever seen. Sandor Clegane was a brute, a fiend, an utter monster to most but his non mocking smile in that moment made it as if his acts of violence had been wiped away.

Varys watched as Imani stepped out of the doorway, dressed in teal and gold looking flowery and out of place in front of Clegane’s darkness. When Tyrion had told him of The Hound and Lady Imani’s odd affair, he of course, already had suspected  as much given the glances that they had shared, but to see them and the obvious tender looks they shared in that fleeting second was surreal. The morning hall, taking on a dreamlike quality due to how the tiny flecks of dust in the air caught the rays of the rising sun causing them gleam like tiny sparks of light, floating in the air. Such single points of beauty were rare in King’s Landing.

Imani stood up on her sandaled tiptoes, straining to kiss him, the height difference between the two was slightly comical. Sandor cupped her chin, leaning down to plant a kiss on her full lips, the action, being slightly chivalrous. The notion that either of the Clegane brothers could be gallant would have been nothing but foolishness of Varys hadn’t seen it with his own two eyes. The Hound uttered something to her and Imani nodded before he left down the hallway in the opposite direction of where Lord Varys watched.

He saw Imani tilt her head as young girls did when they were fluttering with like for a lad, seeming far more of a young woman caught with fancy than her little sister could ever for the prince. Imani suddenly looked over her bare brown shoulders, black questioning eyes staring directly down the hall, directly towards where Lord Varys observed from the morning dimness of the corner. Imani didn't see anyone, but still felt like she was being watched, she narrowed her eyes before turning around and slipping back inside of her chamber door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are making me feel all fluffy inside so >.>


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are triggers for this chapter, mentions of past events involving rape and brutal murders.

Imani relished in his current state, lying on his bed, head tilted back, as he gnashed his teeth. The corners of her mouth slowly lifted into a playful smile, as she licked the length of his  hard cock. Sandor clenched the sheets and let out a frustrated groan, and Imani chuckled mockingly. She ran her warm tongue along the sensitive skin between the head and his throbbing shaft.

“Ohh...you seem to like this teasing, Clegane.” Imani purred, licking her lips at the sight of the sticky, clear pre-cum as it pooled to the surface.

“Ugh...fuck you.” He hissed, and Imani let out a hot gush of rough laugher. Such a feared, strong man, withered to a writhing mess because of her mouth, hands and naked body. Imani couldn’t help but tingle with a sense of pride.

“That isn’t a very nice thing to say to someone that you fancy.” Imani smiled, before grabbing the base of his cock tightly and working her mouth down on his length.

“I’m not--ahhh--” He lost his thoughts as she started to bob her head “...I’m not nice.” Imani was shocked when he suddenly lifted her head up, his cock slipping out of her mouth. Snatching her by her knobby wrists, Sandor yanked her up closer to him.

“Put your cunt on my face I want to fucking taste it.” He ordered, and Imani bit her lip at his bossy tone.

“Fine, but I’m not done playing with you.”

Sandor raised his brow and smirked when she turned and faced away from him, straddling his bare, broad chest. Grabbing her by her hips Sandor pulled her up until he was face to face with her wet, pink cunt. Before Imani could even attempt to put his cock back into her mouth, she felt him part her lower lips with his fingers before he practically buried his face into her twat.

“Mmmm!” Imani hummed with utter delight, as he licked her from her wet slit to her tight asshole, causing her giggle sweetly. His vulgarity shined through as he sloppily lapped at her as if she was the last wine to his parched mouth. Sandor groaned, feeling Imani’s lips on his cock once again. She took him to the back of her throat, and he bucked up into her mouth, causing her to gag slightly, but she continued to suck him seemingly unbothered by the choking. He gripped her ass tightly, digging his nails into her brown skin, as he slipped his tongue inside of her cunt. Imani groaned, cupping his balls in her warm palm and he thrusted up into her mouth again. The pleasure took over Imani, losing her focus she arched her back and starting to grind her hips against his tongue. Sandor growled, his scratchy beard rubbing roughly against her dark, smooth thighs, and she whimpered and adored the feeling. Sandor flicked his tongue and sucked on the  swollen, sensitive bud at the apex of her thighs, she panted breathlessly and curled her toes as an involuntary reaction to the ecstasy.

“Oh--Gods---ah--!” Imani cried, throwing her head back as he flipped two fingers inside of her as well. He groaned at the wet, and deliciously lewd sounds of him finger fucking her cunt while he continued to lick her. “F--fuck! --Ah---ah--Sandor!” She trembled, digging her nails into this tone thighs as he held on, for balance. Like a hard fall she came from his mouth. Imani twitched and shook, driven insane for a few, hazy, seconds. She squeaked and uttered words that were smashed together from her native speak and words he could partially understand, but there was no coherent thought to them. Imani shuttered with an aftershock, before she lifted up off of him and practically collapsed onto her side.

Sitting up Sandor licked his lips, his cock still throbbing, oozing pre-seed and almost purple with need. He got on top of Imani and to his surprise and delight, she leaned up and kissed him hard, humming at the lingering taste of her cunt on his lips. Pushing up both of her legs, Sandor ran the head of his cock against her slick entrance once before he slammed into her. Imani yelped at the sudden fullness, but a pleased, lascivious smile came to her plump lips.

“Ahh-! You feel so fucking good.” He growled, sending shivers up her spine. The large bed frame hit against the wall loudly, repeated and her bangle anklets chimed as stoked in and out of her quim. Sandor knew that he wouldn’t last very long, already feeling the deep coiling in his lower abdomen, but Imani didn’t seem to mind, whispering over and over again how she liked it when finished on her. With a sudden, shuttering pant Imani watched as his eyes rolled in the back of his head, biting his lip as he quickly pulled out of her and shot his white, cum onto her dark abdomen.

"Ah..." She moaned, and wiggled at the feeling of its warmth on her. Smiling slightly Imani ran her delicate fingers through the sticky mess that he just made and blinked up at him. "Mmm...that was a lot." She whispered.

Sandor tried to catch his breath,  still in the afterglow, his face alight with a small hint of a pink flush.

“Fuck,” he uttered as he got up and grabbed her a rag from the side table. “Here,” he handed it to her and Imani smiled and took it.

“Thank you.” Imani whipped his cum from her stomach and Sandor, as usual after sex got himself a glass of wine. He watched her face, and how it twisted in a dynamic and curious way and he knew she was about to ask a question.

“When your brother dies will you become Lord Sandor?” She inquired, quite randomly as she tilted her head like a small, intrigued kitten.

“No,” he said simply, watching the confusion flutter across her face. “House Clegane isn’t a noble house.”

Imani lowered her brow and flipped over on her belly, kicking her legs innocently as he took a sip of his wine. “There is no lord ship associated with my house.” Sandor told her, it was obvious from her expression that the customs of Westerosi land and titles escaped her.

“I thought all houses were noble.”

“No, we are what is called ‘Landed knights.’” His face twitched with a slight hint of had a slight look of contempt when he spoke the last word.  “We’re a vassal house who swears fealty to the Lannisters. Imani looked down and picked at the bed sheet. He stared at her, and took another sip of his wine. “Did you think we were equals, my lady?” The tone he had was suddenly cut and slightly mocking. Of course they were not equals, certainly she knew that.

Without so much as a flinch, Imani sat up slowly and stared at him, and he instantly regretted his hurtful tone.

“But I’m I not your lady?” She asked, her expression stoic as she waited for an answer.

“Tell me, Imani what would your mother and father say if they saw you in the bed of this Westerosi killer?” Sandor asked darkly as he walked over to her.  “What would they say to you?”

“My father would say nothing, for no one dictates who I bed but me... and If my mother were to speak, then it would be witchcraft, because she has been long rotting in the ground.” Her gloomy words gave him pause, Imani looked down and let out a small sigh. Sandor had assumed the woman that gave rise to the three beautiful sisters was alive, a foolish presumption  based on the fact that he couldn’t picture any of the Xe girls having to suffer death and grief, especially Imani with all of her smiles. “My mother, Sauda, was feared more than my father could ever be. Asha is a lot like her. " Imani looked away from him. "She was the one that told me tales of Westeros, she had been here quite a few times and might have had a few Northern lovers herself so I don’t think she would find this...” Imani casually waved her hand in reference of their liaison, “...Strange at all, Clegane. Actually, she would probably expect it from me.”

* * *

 

The Capital was a flurry of excitement for Princess Myrcella's name day celebrations that were starting the next day.  Lords from the kingdoms had arrived, and merchants from across the narrow sea had sailed in hopes to sale their wares to the rich guests. There was to be a tournament and jousting early tomorrow, neither being things that the princess she asked for but her father, King Robert and insisted. The main thing that all of the young ladies were looking forward was the feast and ball that was to take place at night.

Imani brushed out Asha’s hair before supper, and the little lady studied herself in the mirror as she sang The Rains of Castamere idly in her small musical voice.

“And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low? Only a cat of a different coat, that's all the truth I know.”

“Did Prince Joffrey teach you the Lannister song?" She asked her child sister.

“Aye.”

“Do you know the meaning behind that song?” The door to her chambers opened and Ekua walked in wearing an almost sickly expression.

“Aye, it's about how Tywin Lannister destroyed House Reyne.” Asha spoke, still looking at her own brown, pretty reflection. Imani heard Ekua shuffle about and sit on the edge of the bed, but she didn’t say anything, still looking rather upset about something.

“Yes, and what other house was destroyed too?” Imani asked. Scrunching her nose Asha thought, but then shrugged her narrow shoulders.

“House Tarbeck,” Imani told her, running the brush through her sisters thick locks. “Every man, woman, and child of those houses are dead because of Tywin Lannister and their empty, black burned out castles sit still to this day as a reminder of their rebellion. That man would be your grandfather by law if you were to marry the prince.” Said Imani as the thought back to the things that Sandor had told her about Joffrey. She put her hands on sister's shoulders and looked at her through the reflection of the glass. “But now the rains weep o'er his hall, with no one there to hear. Yes, now the rains weep o'er his hall, and not a soul to hear. Joffrey might be a Baratheon but he is part Lannister, and you have to ask yourself, Asha if you want to be part of that history."

“You tell your sister to fear the Lion, and yet you lay with Hounds.” Ekua suddenly hissed and stood up, her tone stressed and biting. Imani turned around to face and she went to speak but little Asha was quick to interject first.

“Wait, you and The Hound…” The youngest asked, stressing the word 'the' as she almost mockingly put her hand to her budding chest. Imani rolled her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose in agitation. “I knew it!”

“Why did you even say that?” Imani snapped at Ekua, who was now picking the palm of her hand still looking bothered.

“I knew he would do something once I told him that you fancied him.” Asha smiled with an unworthy sense of accomplishment, in a rare moment of childishness for her. Folding her arms Imani raised her eyebrow at her little sister and tapped her slippered  foot.

“Oh, really now because I have a feeling we were enjoying each other company long before you decided to say anything.” The self praising look slipped off of Asha’s face now replaced disappointment.

“Really?"

“Yes.” Imani snapped her head towards Ekua. “And was there a reason that you decided to just spew that randomly?"

Ekua sighed, still picking the skin of her tan, marbled palm. “I heard something today regarding your dog's brother.”

“First of all, don’t call him that and second what did you heard and from whom?” Imani said, her tone serious.

“Me and Lord Baelish were talking and--”

“Oh, right, as if Littlefinger is trustworthy.” Imani rolled her eyes, sitting the brush down on the vanity before she sat down on the edge of her bed. She picked at her nails before glancing up nervously at her sister at her sister. “... You didn’t tell him about me and Sandor did you?”

“No, do I look like a fool?”

“For chatting with Littlefinger, yes.” Imani snapped.

Ekua folded her arms and her eyes darted to the floor before she looked back at Imani's narrow eyed, skeptical face.

“He told me about the man they call The Mountain, Ser Gregor Clegane and what he did to  Elia Martell.” Ekua said. Tightening her lips Imani inhaled slightly at the mention of of him, her mind going to a place of a seven year old boy as he screamed and cried as his face burned.  “... You.. You don’t know?”

“I know what happened during Robert's Rebellion.” Imani snapped not liking having her knowledge challenged. She knew what had taken place, most of the world did. How the city was sacked, how Jaime Lannister earned the name 'King-Slayer', how the Targaryen children were killed as to see how they didn't grow up to take back their fathers thrown from the man now called King Robert Baratheon. Wars in Westeros were brutal, far more than any thing they had ever seen in the Summer Isles. In this forgian land fights for iron chairs meant there had to be death.

“Aye, but did he tell you how is own brother killed her and her children?” There was a chilling silence in the room with the three sisters and Imani looked down at her hands. “Your Sandor's brother, grabbed her infant son and smashed his head in.” Ekua  told her sister. “Then he raped her still having the blood of her child on his hands..."

Imani covered her mouth and her eyes widened, those details were missing from all of the accounts that she had read. "And then he cut her in two with his great sword.”

Neither Imani nor Asha spoke both of them wide eyed and in disgusted shock at what Ekua told them, regarding the elder Clegane brother. Hot tears pricked her black eyes and she shook her head.

“H-His brother is the one that burned his face... I know he is a monster, but Sandor is--”

“No, The Hound is a killer, and he has the blood of a killer and you're being the worst hypocrite I’ve ever seen!” Ekua yelled, hand shaking, her own tears threatening to fall. “How could you stand there and tell Asha to be wary of the Lannisters yet you bed a man who has killed on the orders of the Lannisters. Sandor Clegane would choke the life out of you if Joffrey gave him the order.”

“No... Not he wouldn’t.” Imani whispered, crying now. It wasn’t true, if it were he would have never told her about Joffrey's true nature, but she was too scared to mention it horrified that if she talked about some bad would come to him.

“By the Gods, dear sister sometimes you are so stupid.”

Imani jumped up and faced Ekua, and Asha perked up wondering if he would have to come between her two sisters. Ekua was the one with the quick temper, and it took a lot for Imani feel rage, yet on the rare occasion when she did it was no laughing matter.

“You don’t know him.” Imani said, narrowing her watery eyes and glaring at her Ekua.

“Neither do you.” Ekua said with a calm and impassive face. Her words like splinters, spinning Imani’s feelings.

“Fuck you.” Imani hissed, before pushing past her, she snatched open wooden door and stormed out. There was silence between the older and younger Xe sisters for a second before Ekua let out a heavy sigh and Asha walked over to her.

“Please don’t tell me you love Joffrey....” Ekua whispered.

“I don’t.” Asha said with a sort of slight chuckle and shake of her head. "I can't say the same about her."

* * *

 

Sandor narrowed his eyes in the harsh, high daylight as he stood beside prince's seat. It was a hot day, and he cursed the long, drawn out summer, but his anger against the heat was lost when he saw Imani. Dressed in green, purple feathers she looked like a rare flower in bloom, her golden jewelry glinting in the yellow light. Holding up the bottom of her dress as she walked to a seat in the stands before the joust started, Sandor had been so focused on her, that he barely even noticed her sisters walking behind her. Both of them looked pretty as well the small lady in dressed in blush pink, while her elder sister looked regal in dark blue. Asha and Ekua both simultaneously looked at him, although their expressions spoke of different words. The eldest gave him, narrow-eyed distaste, but the small lady slightly smiled as they moved past. Prince Joffrey thought the girls smile was for him and he smirked stupidly at Asha as she passed by in the sun, a reaction that Queen Cersei scowled at. Sets of brown, green and blue eyes followed the Xe sisters as they walked up the stands, their dark beauty causing men and a few women to ogle them. They took their seats, and Imani could almost feel Sandor’s glare on her exposed back. Ekua glanced over her shoulder quickly and then leaned over to her sister, who had been curt and short with her all morning.

“Are you still mad at me about we talked about yesterday?”

“What do you think?” Imani huffed, purposely sweeping her braids to one side knowing that it would gather his attention to her smooth neck. Sandor’s eyes slid up from Imani’s supple, honey, back and the slight happiness he felt was snatched from him when he saw his brother. He hadn’t expected him to show up from Clegane’s Keep to compete, but there he was, readying his horse looking as big and menacing as ever. Sandor watched as Imani raised her head, and then quickly grabbed her older sister’s hand.

“Ow-what are you doing?” Ekua uttered, surprised by her sister's sudden tight grasp. She glanced at Imani, shocked at the wide-eyed fear that was plastered to her face. Looking the direction to which her sister started, she saw him. It was then that Ekua realized that her sister wasn't a fool, and she did fear The Mountain, wondering the monstrosity of a man that could mutilate his own brother, kill children and rape women. Yet, even in the face of horror her heart had already forced her into love that made the same turn to fools and face danger when even though there was only pain to be found. With a nauseating sickness Sandor watched as Gregor’s cold glare swept over the crowded and much like the eyes of other men he found interest in the onyx and gold beauty that was the radiating Xe sisters...staring directly at the most beautiful one, Imani.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very, very long...

The hall was lit with small flickering candles, gossamer fabric covered the tables, decorated the pillars and hung from the high in soft drapes. The smell of lavender and sweets hung thick in the air, any young girl would have died for the chance to have such a fairy tale name day ball and feast but it was Princess Myrcella Baratheon who the grand celebrations were dedicated to.

Sandor stood at his usual place, behind the sour prince who seemed less than enthusiastic about his sister's name day. His cold eyes constantly scanning the crowd of lords and ladies, and Sandor knew that his anticipation was due to the fact that he was waiting for little Lady Asha to show up through the archway.

Sandor hadn’t spoken to the Xe's sister that gathered his own attractions, and had only seen Imani briefly from time to time during the tourney earlier that day. His mind kept slipping back to his brother’s face as he scanned the crowd before his match, which he won with the utmost violence and how his dark narrowed eyes landed on Imani as she sat between her older and younger sisters. Sandor wanted to believe that Gregor had seen someone else that caught his interest, some other woman who would be silent if she was smart and would let him have his way with her. Yet, Sandor knew his brother’s blood, she in all of her dark beauty had captivated him just as she had beguiled other men who tripped over their own foolish feet when she walked past or even glanced in their directions. Yet, Gregor wasn’t the person that a woman ever wanted to be enticing to.

Sandor looked around the large hall and was relieved when he didn’t see his unnaturally large brother anywhere. Hopefully, The Mountain and already rode and left after winning the day's tournament and headed back to Clegane's Keep with his prize of fifteen thousand gold dragons. His internal thoughts were interrupted when his eyes slid over to see her distant golden and onyx form as she stepped in with her sisters.

The Xe’s walked in, all three of them dressed in various shades of purple. Imani was in the middle with her arms locked with her sisters, large white feathers, sprouted from her hair that was piled high atop her head.  The tightly laced and slim fit of her gown at her bust pushed her tits up making them very hard to ignore. Joffrey licked his thin lips at the sight of Lady Asha in all of her girl child, fairytale beauty. A circlet of purple and white flowers atop her head, dressed far more modest than her sisters, in a gown made of summer feathers and silk. Although the prince had no idea that the girl he fancied had picked her clothing with accuracy and precision, and that just like all of her other actions around him were planned. She played the dove so he couldn’t see the plotting panther beneath it. Asha fluttered her lashes, looking up at him with a sugary smile, causing the innocent and sweet dimples of her cheeks to form. The prince stirred much how she knew he would still testing to see if her charms could control him fully, plucking his strings to hear which chords that played.  Ekua stood to Imani’s right, the most regal of them all but lacked the glowing mischief of Imani and the sweet cunning of Asha, Ekua seemed to be over Westeros. The three sisters walked over to the royal family's table, and Sandor watched Joffrey grip the wooden arms of his chair and sit up straighter in his seat at their approach his eyes not shifting from little Asha.

“Happy name day, Princess!” Imani said sweetly, as she curtsied, watching Sandor’s eyes dropped to her chest before he glanced away quickly.

“Thank you.”  Myrcella smiled, at the sisters whom she had grown quite fond of, especially Asha who she hoped would truly be her sister by law one day.

“You must be so proud, your grace,” Ekua spoke to Cersei who was obviously deeply eyeing Joffrey’s reactions to little Asha. Licking his lips and fidgeting in his seat as his blue eyes wandered about her body.  The queen lowered her brow and then looked back at the elder sister.

“I am, she is simply perfect,” Cersei said, and for the first time there no hint of a lie on her lips. The Golden Queen was a lot of things, but she did love her children. Oddly the king wasn’t seated with his family, but he could be heard laughing loudly with some of the guests, already drunk.

“Alright, are we done with being greeted by guests?” Joffrey spoke as he stood up, his cold, blue glare still stuck to Asha. Cersei was about to speak, but he cut her off. “Good.” He took Asha by her small, delicate hand. “Shall we, my lady?"

Asha smiled and nodded, faking the bashfulness that she knew he craved, her sisters and Sandor watched as she walked away with the prince into the joyous crowd.

* * *

 

The night went on, and the more and more wine was served, the sounds of the music got louder and so did the guests rowing with cheer and laughter. The princess was enjoying herself and had three tables of gifts from the lords and ladies that attended. There was an almost endless supply of cakes, sweets and fruits and Imani had sampled and tasted them all. Biting into a fat, red strawberry she eyed Sandor from across the hall as he sat at a table watching Joffrey and Asha as they danced. He looked ready to draw his sword at the drop of a coin to protect the prince, and a deep, dark part of Imani wanted to see what he would do if someone actually attacked the prince. The mental image of him being fierce and ready to kill sent a shiver between her legs. She knew that he also kept a close eye on her own baby sister as well. Yet, every few moments Sandor’s eyes would slip back over to Imani, leering at her with the knowledge of how she looked under that tight gown. She had turned down every man that had offered her a dance and seemed content and pleased at the notion and thought that she was untouchable. The knights and lords were all ignorant to the fact that the fearsome Hound, himself had touched, licked and fucked her in ways they could only imagine in their wettest of wet dreams.

“Mmmmm, she does look rather ravishing tonight.” Sandor heard for behind him and he rolled his eyes as far back as they could go and his lips twisted into a show of utter disdain as Tyrion Lannister strolled up behind him. The off balance imp took a drink wine from his cup before smiling at Sandor. If he wasn’t so drunk he wouldn’t have spoken about Imani to him, that was a fact, but in his far past the reasoning stage of inebriation he couldn’t keep his humorous mouth shut.

“Oh, Hound, Hound, Hound,” Tyrion babbled.

“The fuck do you want, Half Man?” Sandor growled, quickly glancing back over to Imani who was now joined with her elder sister. Leaning on the table Tyrion took another sip of his wine and stared over at the two of three Xe’s.

“I have been with so many women,” he started causing Sandor to roll his eyes again. “Sooo many, some tall, some short, some with red of hair, some with black of hair, from Highgarden to Dorne to even a few from across The Narrow Sea.” He drank and then wiped the back of his mouth with his hand. “Even had a few Summer Isle flowers too.”

Sandor narrowed his eyes and his lip curled, the imps drunken prattle was starting to irk him. Suddenly like the silent spider that he was Lord Varys' voice spoke as he walked up.

“Lord Tyrion you seem to have had a lot to drink.”

“Great surrounded by an imp and a eugenic,” Sandor grumbled to himself before looking over to Joffrey and Lady Asha who were now sitting at a table. Her wide eyes looked at him with cold calculation behind her childish smile, but he was dumb to notice. At that moment, she had him in her sharp kitten claws, but how long could she keep him there, really?

“I’m not nearly half as drunk as I could be, or plan on getting.” Tyrion laughed, but Varys didn’t crack a smile. He knew how the little lord could be and that his mentioning of Lady Imani was an attempt to prod the beast and she bedded. He liked to joke with people, but he hadn’t seen what Varys had. In the dust lit hall he hadn’t witnessed the look of close to pained tenderness that came across Sandor Clegane’s usually harsh face when he looked down at Imani, how he had cupped her chin and kissed her, and how their little affair might be more than lust. Lord Varys knew that Tyrion’s little jokes could go too far regarding her, and he would much rather that no one, especially Sandor knew that he was aware of their hound and panther dance.

Tyrion looked back at Sandor and then at Imani who was still talking to her sister.

“Out of all of the girls I have bedded, I don’t think not a one of them was as beautiful as her,” Tyrion said, and Varys closed his eyes and shook his head at his words. Unsure at what The Hound would do at the jab, he decided that he didn't want to stay around and watch just in case a sword or knife happened to be drawn. Sandor clenched his jaw glanced back over to her brown, star-dust beauty as she lowered her eyebrow at something Ekua said.

“After everything you know you still plan on being a fool I see.” The elder Xe said, watching as Imani’s eyes slid over to where Sandor sat and Tyrion stood, both men looking at them with very different expressions on their faces.

“And after everything I see you're still trying to play like you are my mother.” Imani hissed, the salt and acid in her tone mostly driven out by the alcohol she had been enjoying all evening. Ekua stared at her, with an unflinching face at her sister’s words. Rarely Imani was so hurtful but given the right conditions she could have a sword for a tongue.

“What do you plan on gaining from this?” Ekua asked. “Wait? As if you would marry him? As if he would marry you? He has the blood of killers..." She lowered her voice to a hushed whisper. “He is a killer, do you want to end pregnant with a murderous half Clegane lust-child?” Ekua urged. With a raise of her eyebrow, Imani let out a cutting laugh at her sister's words, finding her utterly ridiculous.

“No, sister. I want you to mind your own business.” She said, once her chuckles stopped and the smile slid off of her face. Imani narrowed her eyes at Ekua before she walked away, with Sandor’s leer following her.

“You know, Dog. I would die to have one lick of that flower and taste its nectar.” Tyrion uttered, watching her as well as she stopped to talk to the king's younger brother, Renly Baratheon. That was it, Sandor had enough of the tiny lord's utterances regarding the island beauty, his Imani who not more than a day ago had her pretty mouth all over his cock. Sandor glanced over at the imp and watched as the dwarf refilled his cup with the sweet red wine, his face a flush as he staggered to stand. Would he even remember what was about to be said to him by the morning? Probably not.

“Tell me Half-man, have you ever eaten a mango?” Sandor asked, raising his eyebrow and drumming his fingers on the white gossamer covered table. Tyrion took a long sip of his wine and then hiccuped.

“No, I can’t stay that I have.” He shook his head with a sway. Smiling almost cruelly and mockingly Sandor narrowed his eyes at the little lord.

“It’s a fruit from the Isles, and if you want to know what the ladies cunt tastes like you should try one,” Sandor stood up and stared down at the small Lannister. “Seeing as is it’s the closest you’ll ever get to putting your little tongue to her twat.”

Tyrion blinked with a face plastered with surprise. With a quirk of his lip, Sandor walked away, brushing past Tyrion and leaving him to wonder if he had heard him right.

* * *

 

The celebrations were finally over, minus a few more than drunk stragglers who stayed drowning themselves in ale and wine while singing rather off key. Still seething with annoyance from her sister's preaching, Imani stood back to a stone pillar, full wine glass in hand, in a dim area of the hall. She wrinkled her brow and took a sip of her drink, not ready to retire for the night, unlike her sisters. Stepping out of the shadow she rested her head against the column, looking around at the attendants that stayed. She heard a group of young knights and ladies around her age talking about how they wanted to drink until morning and watch the sun come up from the horizon.

“Whereismylady?” Imani overheard a very drunk Prince Joffrey slur to Sandor as he tried to struggle out of his seat. His face pale face was now beet red, and he looked like an utter fool.

“What?” Sandor asked, grabbing the prince before he fell on his ass.

“My lady, lady Ashaaaaa.” He garbbled, his blue eyes half lidded. “Where is she?”

Imani snickered, casually slipping from the shadows and walked towards them, instantly gaining Sandor’s stare.

“My prince, my sister retired for the night.” She said, before taking a sip of her wine. Joffrey put one hand on his head and tottered. Point his finger at Imani he went to speak but covered his mouth quickly. With a sigh, Sandor made an irritated face. Joffrey swallowed and attempted to speak again.

“Tell me--my soon to be sister--h--as darling Asha had her blood yet?” The prince asked, a disgusting, devious look coming across his young, golden features. His tongue darting out much more a snake than a lion.  There was a pause and Sandor glanced at Imani and could see the look of repugnance dance across her face at the question, now rude and disrespectful for him to ask her or anyone such a thing.

“Ex--” The words for “Excuse me?” didn’t even get to leave her mouth before Prince Joffrey fell to the floor and vomited on himself. Sandor glanced down at the prince with a cold expression indifference, there was nothing he could do to stop him from hacking up his own mess.

“Ew…” Imani uttered lowly.

“This is his first time being drunk,” Sandor said.

“Oh, that explains it.” She said over the sound of Joffrey coughing.

“Aye, well you should retire yourself for the night it is very late.” He told her, his gaze going to the top of her tits, that were so hard to ignore.

“No, I plan on taking a late night stroll through the gardens.” She smiled eyebrows working in a dynamic way as to get across a hint for him alone.

“Oh, Gods…” They both heard Joffrey groan, but they ignored him. Sandor watched Imani bit her lip and wiggle her hips slightly.

“What could possibly be in the gardens for you this time of night?” He inquired, with a half smirk, knowing her little game.

“The rose bushes look beautiful in the moonlight.” Imani winked before walking away and out of the hall.

* * *

 

The fresh smell of the night dewed grass was refreshing, and just as she had so hinted Sandor found her by the thick bushes of marbled roses. With a hot breath, Imani giggled and writhed under him on her back in the grass. His large hand slipped up her dress and ran up her smooth thigh.

“I've been aching to fuck you all night long.” He groaned, licking her crook of her hot neck

“Mmm, I wore this dress for that very reason…” Imani purred, and he pulled away and stared down at her. “To make you mad with lust for me.”

Sandor licked his lips, watching the tops of her pushed up breast rise and fall with her excited breaths.

“Well, your little planned worked.” He hissed before planting his lips to her chest, nipping at the swells of her tits. Imani groaned as he sucked and bit at her skin, as she bumped and rocked her crotch against his. Drawing away Sandor eyed her, piled hair was a loose mess, the crimson stain on her lips long faded, barring the shallow intents of his teeth marks and trails of spit on her breasts. Reaching up she pulled the bust of the gown slightly down, and as soon as he saw her dark brown areolas he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around them.

“Mmm. Yes…” Imani moaned as he pinched her other hardened bud between his fingers. Sandor flicked his tongue and sucked at her tit and Imani purred and rocked her hips. Moving his hand, he slipped it under her dress and groaned when his fingers felt the wetness at the apex of her thighs.

“You're dripping, my lady.” He whispered, before slipping two fingers between her lower lips.  Imani arched her back and bit her lip to hush moan as he pumped his fingers in and out of her slick cunt.

“Ahh--ohh--!” Imani bucked against his palm. “S--Sometimes I use my fingers just like that and I--ahh--I pretend they're your thick cock.” Imani whispered, her fist clenching at the grass under her hand.

“Is that so, my lady?” He asked, pushing his long fingers in deeper. Imani's legs twitched  and she tightly closed her eyes. Sandor pulled his fingers from inside of her causing Imani to groan in frustrated protest, but he ignored her sweet pleas for more. Looking down at his fingers he separated them and smirked at the thin, clear lines of her wetness that connected them. Bringing his fingers to his mouth he licked them clean of her honey.

“Fuck me hard…” Imani whispered, bucking up against his stiff cock. His eyes seemed to darken at her request, and before Imani knew it he flipped her over on her belly and was pushing up the skirt of her dress in a desperate hurry.

“How hard do you want it?” Sandor growled in her ear as he unlaced his trousers.

“I want you to make me sore.” Imani smiled as he growled in her ear. “I--I want to still feel you inside of me long after you’ve pulled out I---Ahh!!” Imani lost her words due to him shoving his cock into her to the hilt, with one thrust of his hips.

“You want it rough?” Sandor pinned both of her wrists behind her back with one large hand. “I’ll make sure your cunt always remembers my cock.” He started to thrust hard, Imani would have screeched, but Sandor covered her mouth with his other hand. She whimpered with  satisfaction as he fucked her relentlessly, her back arched and she darted her tongue out to taste the salt on his palm. Their moans and groans were muffled in by the shrubbery of abandoned and desolate floral garden. He watched in the dim moonlight as his cock slipped in and out of her tight, hot cunt, coating his throbbing shaft with her slick wetness. Leaning forward he inhaled a lung full of her tropical scent. He removed his hand from her mouth and Imani hissed and licked her lips, already half lost to the feeling of his cock hitting the agonizingly pleasurable the spot inside of her.

“Is--ahh--this what you wanted, my lady?” He moaned in her ear and Imani struggled for coherent words.

“A---aye!” She squeaked. Sandor yanked out of her, forcing her on her back and then grabbed her by her chin.

“I want to see that pretty face when you cum.” He hissed before slamming back inside of her.

Yanking at the neck plate of his armor she pulled him into a kiss, as he fucked her faster and faster. She wrapped her legs around him and shoving her tongue into his mouth, forcing him to share in the flavor of her wined saliva. Sandor groaned in pain and yanked away, when she bit him, hard.  Not stopping the movement of his hips, he darted his tongue out to see if she had drawn blood, she had. With a sudden hot, gush Imani exploded into wicked laughter, but her giggles quickly twisted into cries when he grabbed her by her narrow waist and fucked her just shy of how hard he really could have. Wanting her sore,  but seriously harmed. Reaching up Imani gripped the metal studded straps of his armor, a fleeting second later she felt the trembling shudder run through her and she was lost to her little death, so much that she was silent and drawn to tears. Clenching around his cock Imani’s body demanded that he cum too, and there was no way he could ignore the command.

“Fuck--Ahh--Imani!” He choked out, thrusting a few more times before he pulled out and came against the inside of her dewy thigh and she savored the feeling of his warm cum on her skin.  Imani purred with satisfaction as she looked up at him and watched him pant for breath and bit his lip.

“I’m sorry for biting you,” she fluttered her eyelashes and looked away. “I got a little too excited.”

“Aren't cats supposed to scratch and dogs bite?” Sandor snickered as she laced up his trousers.

“No, we cats can do both.”

Sandor stood and looked down at her as she sat up, trying to straighten her now ruined, grass stained gown, braids an utter mess, the quills of the feathers that were in her hair were now broken, palm and knees dirty from the ground. In what seemed like a conjured up image from a children's fairy tail a firefly landed on her smooth, dark shoulder and fluttered its wings before it lit up with its greenish-yellow glow.

“Oh...look at that.” She whispered in sweet surprise, raising her hand to the insect, and it moved it's wings again but didn't fly away only walking on to her delicate finger, lighting up once more, reflecting in her dark eyes.  There was something simple and amazingly beautiful about her at that moment, embodying the fair maiden from all the songs at silly girls sung and that he hated, but yet there she sat. In the damp grass, knees bent, watching the flicking insect with an almost wondered look about her face. Sandor parted his lips but swallowed his words just a quick as they welded in the back of this throat.

“Come, Lady Imani. It’s late, let me escort you to your chambers.” Sandor spoke and the firefly flew away when she reached up and took his hand.

* * *

 

The halls of The Red Keep were dead, empty as everyone slept in willing sleep or passed out from drinking too much. Exhausted Sandor made his way back from Imani’s chambers. She had kissed him, gently and sweetly on his cheek before he left her to her to dreams. Sandor paused suddenly and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck, hearing the clanking of heavy armor behind him, he knew the sound and he knew it well.

“Who’s the pretty little bitch.” The deep voice asked. Sandor closed his eyes for a second before turning to face the man he hated the most, his own brother. He stared at him but didn't speak, he had nothing to say to Gregor Clegane, not about Imani or about anything. He thought for sure he had left to ride bak to the family hold, but there he stood, huge, and with his usual sadistic glare. Sandor knew that honestly evil existed because of his brother.  “I saw her today in the stands, and I had no idea that her standards were low as to let something like you crawl on top of her.” Gregor said walking up to the man that he still saw as that crying, screaming, burning boy. “I saw you taking her back to her chambers,” His empty eyes leering down at Sandor.

“She and her sister are royal guests.” Sandor uttered, finally speaking in hopes that would stop him from whatever horrors he was imagining.

“What color is her cunt?” Gregor asked, his mouth twisting into a sick snarl. Sandor clenched his jaw and went to walk away, rage sparking in his blood, but Gregor grabbed him by his neck and slammed him up against the wall. “Don’t you ignore me you little shit.” Gregor hissed the thick smell of ale on his breath. Sandor looked down, recalling all the times even before the fire when his brother beat him bloody for no reason and no matter how much her cried for his father to help he didn’t. He managed to shake off the memories and look up at his massive sibling.

“You leave her and her sisters be.” He said, but Gregor only laughed.

“I’ve never had a piece of Summer Isle cunt, I think I'll take her from you.” Take, as if she was an inanimate object and not a living, breathing person, a toy to be broken, a wooden maiden to be burned for. Sandor swallowed and narrowed his eyes.

“I said leave her and her sisters alone, Gregor.” It had been  the wrong thing to say because his brother then pulled out a knife and put it flush against his neck.

“Do you forget who you’re talking to boy?” He hissed, before moving the blade to the burnt side of his face and smiled as he pressed the edge into the mutilated skin that he had caused. “Do you ever recall a time when I didn’t take a woman that I wanted?”

For whatever reason, Sandor’s mind went to the sister he had but only remembered through a misty haze, with a blurred face and like the missing servant girls Sandor knew deep down inside that Gregor had raped and killed them all.  “It might not be tonight, it might not be tomorrow, but one-day little brother, I will take what I want.” He dug the knife in deeper, just shy of breaking the rough scarred skin, enjoying the scared look on his little brother’s face. “Any girl you ever have or any wife you take... one day you will find them fucked bloody and beaten half to death and you’ll know it was me. I hope you keep that one around because I love a go at her.”

Sandor felt the sharp pain of a slice across his cheek and then the warm dripping of blood. Gregor laughed darkly before pulling away from his brother and continuing down the hall as if nothing happened. Sandor stood there, still against the wall, his heart racing in utter terror and for the first time since left Clegane's Keep as a young man he felt the fear of the child who screamed but no one helped.

**  
**  



	16. Chapter 16

_A dog barked through what seemed like a dank, murky smog, as Sandor walked under endless, swaying, golden Lannister banners. Was he at Clegane’s Keep? He looked down and under his boots was golden sand, yet the red stoned_ vined _pillars were of King's Landing. Another dog barked and he stopped when he saw something in front of him. Apprehensively Sandor walked over to the fleshy mound that lay in the sand. He recognized the face of a woman he had only seen once when he was younger at the cursed Tournament of Harrenhal,  it was Elia Martell. Sandor backed away, for she was deader than dead, cut in two, yet her brown eyes were open looking at nothing. She was how his brother had left her after he killed her children and then raped her, everyone knew that horrible story._

_He turned his head, seeing another body, this one of a girl who was clad in a yellow and black gown, face down in the finely grained sand with bruises on her pale wrists and she had the same shade of brown hair that as him._

_“Sister?” Sandor uttered, slowly moving towards her. She was dead like Elia, but he was compelled to touch her, wanting to see the face of the sibling who he could only remember as a smudged pastel image. Sandor went to turn her over but before his subconscious mind could recall her features he was startled by the sound of a young boy screaming; the sound him screaming when his face was pressed to the fire._

_He turned back around, but Elia Martell’s body was no longer there, replaced by someone else. Covering his mouth, he shook his head when he saw her. Imani Xe had taken the place of the murdered Targaryen mother.  She laid there dressed in a ruined white gown, with Gregor’s sword buried to the hilt in her beautiful chest. Her onyx eyes fixing him with her slayed glare, mouth in a haunting, disturbing smile.  Her twisted hands and fingers gripped onto his metal_ hound _helmet. The last dog barked in the distance, whimpered and then fell silent with death. Sandor didn’t speak as if he had lost the ability to form words, only falling to his knees. Grabbing Imani’s corpse in desperation he tried to wrench The Mountain's blade from her bone and muscle as if freeing the sword from her would revive her. In his large arms, her petite frame felt broken and mangled from the inside. She didn’t feel as if she was made of flesh or blood, her joints were twisted as if she was made of wood and screws. In despair, he yanked at the sword, shaking her body violently. His sight slowly started to go hazy, and smoke burned his eyes. There was the sickening smell of smothering human skin and a second later Sandor realized that he was on fire all over again._

* * *

 

The red  hallway in the afternoon danced with warm yellow light. With a dreamy hum, Imani strolled down the corridor, with her delicate fingers intertwined, as she moved with a light ghost of a skip. Putting one fluttering hand up, she ran her fingertips over the top of her right brown breast, where not longer than ten hours ago Sandor had graced her cleavage with the intents of his teeth. The thought of the previous night stayed trickling through her spine, the smell and feel of the dewy grass and his large hands wandering all over her. Smiling girlishly Imani played with the gold chain of her panther necklace as she turned the corner.

With the hard rigidness of running into a wall or a stone pillar, Imani let out a tiny, surprised yelp when she bumped right into the recipient of her Summer affections. Blinking up at him, she fluttered her lashes and then a smile came to her mouth.

Sandor leered down at her, but his face didn’t hold any warmth to it. Darkened eyes down, fist clenched, no trace nor hint of a smile. When he saw her he could also see the images from his nightmare, the impaled, mangled body, the vacant dead eyes, the broken hands clenching his helmet as if she had refused to have it pried from her grasp in her last moments.

_“It might not be tonight, it might not be tomorrow, but one-day little brother, I will take what I want.”_

His brothers words slithered in his mind. The Mountain That Rides took whatever he wanted, no matter if it was a wench who said ‘no’, an innkeeper's daughter, a highborn lady, or even his own child sister, Imani Xe was no different. To him she wasn’t a person, she was a thing to be raped, beaten and killed if need be. Sandor knew that his brothers perverse interest in her stemmed for his hate of his little brother. Gregor had always liked to watch Sandor suffer even before he pressed his face to the flames. There was nothing else he could do, there was only one solution - one utterly painful solution that ended with her safe, alive but hating him.

Imani tilted her head in that innocent, yet grossly alluring way, as she looked at him and wetted her full lips.

“Sandor?” she spoke, picking up on his chill. He narrowed his, mouth twisting into a cold scowl. Imani lowered her brow her face took on a bewildered, yet gentle expression.  “What’s wrong?” she went to put her hand on his chest and he hissed and stepped away from her.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he said, and instantly he saw her confusion deepen with a glaring hint of pain.

“W--what--?” She choked her mouth feeling as though it was full of sand. The fear of what his brother might do to her, driving him to the conclusion that this horribleness was the only way to protect her from him, for Sandor knew deep down inside that Gregor only wanted to break her because she was his. Oh no, Sandor Clegane could not be happy, not as a child, not then, not ever and he knew that as long as his sadistic elder brother drew breath he would suffer alone.

“I don’t want anything to do with you,” he spoke, showing her just how cruel he could be. Imani looked down, her mouth slightly parted, blinked quickly. She shook her head and then stared at him with her starry, black eyes as if she no longer knew what language he was speaking.

“I --w--what did I do?” her brow wrinkled, bottom lip trembling as salty tears pricked painfully her eyes. Imani's question sliced at him, she did nothing but be foolish enough to care for him, although he was burned, scarred, damaged and flawed.

“You're a stupid girl, and I don’t want to see you again.”

Imani didn’t say anything only raising her shoulders and recoiling, the panther now a broken kitten that he had just kicked. He had gutted men, slit throats, beaten people to death with his bare hands but this...watching the tears fall from her eyes as she trembled in utter confusion, this was the truly horrible thing. Stuttering Imani fought for words, but the sounds were broken syllables as she sniffled.

“But-la--last night--w--why are you--d-doing this to me? Wh--what did I do?”

He couldn't tell her the truth, what kind of man would he be if he even spoke it? There was no way that pride would let him tell her that he feared his older brother and because deep, down inside there was a part of that scared, trembling boy that still resided in part of his soul. Even though Sandor wished to tell her the truth and wished to wipe away her tears, The Hound would not and would never let him. One day Imani, whose family name was once Xe would thank him for his viciousness at that moment there in the hallway. One day she would marry a man who deserved her beauty, one day she would have children that looked like her with black eyes and dark skin. There would moment in the future when she would think back about them and possibly stay to her sisters...

 _“Do you remember that time I thought I cared for that man they called The Hound?”_  

And they would all laugh at the utter ridiculousness of it all. He took a step towards her and for the first time she backed away.

“Shut up about it,” Sandor hissed, not able to stop his eyes from glancing down at her dark, brown breast that he had fondled and kissed that last, very last ethereal night, when the firefly had graced her shoulder and she looked beyond anything he could have ever imagined.

“I don’t want to ever speak to you again.”

Imani sobbed seeing him through the distortion of her tears and pain of his rejection. With one quick movement, he grabbed her by her upper arm, and she yelped in pain at his grip.

“S-Sandor--I--” she stammered for words, but he couldn't listen to what he knew she was going to say.

“I’m The Hound.” He growled before he yanked her by her arm and pushed her. Imani tripped over her feet but didn’t fall, her black braids dangling to cover half of her tear, wet face. She stared at him, holding the sore spot from his tight grip. She didn’t say anything, only clenching her teeth and wiping her nose with the back of her hand. She ran past him back down the hall she had come from, her summer scent filling him with agony although on the surface he didn’t flinch, yet unknown to the two of them there were little birds listening.

* * *

 

With the slam of her chamber door, Imani’s legs gave out as soon as she reached the bed. She buried her face into the sheets and let out a gagging weep as she trembled. This was a pain that was new to her, not ever before had she lived through this sting. Out of all of the bedfellows she had, men and women not a single one caused her this heartache. Suddenly there was a knock at her chamber door and Imani lifted her head heavy head.

“Go away!” Imani yelled, but the intruder ignored her and opened the door anyway. Flipping around Imani saw Ekua standing in the doorway, wide-eyed holding a scroll.

“You already heard?” She asked, but Imani blinked in confusion, glancing back down at the scroll.

“H-heard what?” She asked between her cries. Ekua quickly shut the door and hurried over to her and sat on the edge of the bed.

“It’s father…” At her words, Imani sat up straight and stared at her sister. “He has fallen ill,” Ekua added and Imani was quick to yank the scroll from her hand and read it with her teary eyes. Their father, Prince Obasi had fallen victim the Redspots, a sickness that children usually got, and something that Imani and her sisters had suffered though as girls. You could only catch the Redspots once but if contracted as an adult it could be fatal, the letter to the girls from their court shaman urged them to return for at their father's advanced age he was at a high wrist of death from the sickness. Imani dropped the scroll to the floor, emotionally exhausted, heartbroken and now in fear of her father's demise. Ekua cupped Imani under her chin and stared at her.

“We must leave tonight, we must be by his side.” She urged.

“Aye.” Imani whispered weakly and Ekua was surprised by how easy getting her to leave was and she knew that her little sister's could only be because of one man.

“What did that dog to you?” She asked, rage coming across her regal features. Imani shook her head and her face twisted again as she broke back out into sobs. Ekua was shocked when Imani grabbed her and weeped against her chest, she looked down at her as she cried. The very last time she remembered such a sorrowful embrace was when Imani cried for hours after their mother passed away.  Putting one thin hand on the back of Imani’s head Ekua comforted her, like siblings should.

“Let's go home sister...all of us.”

* * *

 

“No!” Joffrey yelled, throwing his golden cup to stone floor. Cersei flinched slightly, but she forced a smile as she looked at her son. “She can’t leave me! She is to be my wife.”

“Darling, Lady Asha must be with her father.” The queen said, regretting the decision  that she be the one to deliver him the news of his hopeful wife’s departure from the capital.

“Who cares about her father? He is nothing but a tribal prince, I will be king she can’t just leave me!” Joffrey spat.

“You will King Joffrey of House Baratheon and Lannister, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm...but you could never truly be her king." She told him and he gave her a red-faced, narrowed eyed look. "Asha Xe might have taken you name, sat beside you as you graced the Iron Throne, and given you Baratheon sons and daughters but she..” Cersei took her son's hand, he flinched away at first, but he eventually allowed her to touch him. “She would have always been a foreigner, loyal to her own people and island.” She soothed, but Joffrey rolled his eyes at his queen mother.

“But I _wanted_  her.” He hissed, the Cersei shook her head and smiled sadly.

“Oh my sweet boy, we will find you a better wife, a prettier wife, who is from the realm you rule and who can give you children that look like you.” Cersei spoke in an apologetic tone but inside, she was glad to be rid of little Asha who she knew would grow up and play her own game of thrones with foreign witchery. Who would have tamed Joffrey with her tiny bitch-like cunning and would have possibly been the younger and more beautiful queen who would have cast Cersei down, and taken everything she held dear.

* * *

 

The sun had slipped beyond the horizon, and on the order of his Prince, The Hound escorted the Xe sisters to their awaiting ship. Yet, Joffrey himself did not see Asha nor her sisters off, staying in The Red Keep to continue his bitter, salty, sulking about his ruined fantasize regarding her. The little lady didn’t seem broken up about leaving him in the slightest, she only walked silently with her sisters to the dock to board their already loaded ship without a tear in her eye. The Hound could hear Imani weeping, her head hung low, the hood of  feather cloak  shielding the top of her face from his eyes. The same cloak she had worn on the hunt when she had ridden with him on Stranger. He tried not to remember how she had laughed that out of fear and exhilaration but now any and all memories of her were nothing but sour, rotten fruit.

Ekua walked ahead once they reached the dock. Sandor saw the hated looked she gave him over her shoulder. Her dark eyes cutting into him with utter bile, she knew what he had said had done to her own sister who did nothing care for him and for that he earned her disgust. Ekua got in the boat that would take them to their awaiting ship in the distance, which even in the dark the beautiful Summer Isle sails could be seen like silken bellows in the velvet night.

Asha glanced back and up at the Red Keep, unable to wonder what her life would have been like as queen of that exotic high castle. Shaking he head, she dismissed the idea of birthing Baratheon children. She knew what Joffrey was, an utter monster and she could have controlled him for a bit, but mad kings only get madder with age. The girl child's wild eyes slid to Sandor.

“Goodbye Ser.” Asha said, knowing full well he wasn’t a knight but called him the title anyway before she headed down the dock. Imani didn’t step ahead to follow her siblings and to Sandor's agony she stepped in front of him and pulled down the hood of her cloak. He glanced away from her face, trying to avoid those wet, matted lashes, and twitching lips that were stained the color of cherry wine.

“Leave,” he said coldly, watching tears once again brim over her black eyes, yet her bright beauty was not diminished by her sobs. Wiping her nose with the back of her brown hand Imani swallowed as she found words.

“Wh-Why did you do this?”

“Walk down the dock and get in the fucking boat, with your sisters, leave and don’t ever come back.” His words impacted her as if a punch in the gut, chest or face.

“No! Tell me what did to make you hate me?”

His possibly doomed darling begged, needing some type of answer but he had none to give. In anguish Imani put her head in her hands, the sounds of her broken cries plucked at every cord of his body.

“Yo--you’re the only person I have ever be-been in love with,” she said from behind her wet palms and when she looked past her hands and back at him she only saw The Hound staring back at her. There was no hint of shock on his face, he had pushed the expression away but in his cold, careless glare he knew the same fact was true for him, but not then; not ever would he say it out loud “Yo-you hate this place, you hate the Lannisters, you--you hate Prince Joffrey. Ye-yet you hurt me….” Imani went put her hand on his chest, but he backed away, he could not survive her touch he was sure of it.

“You know nothing, you stupid little girl. How could you know anything? All you know is sunny skies and beaches, all you do is sing songs.” He hissed, his face twisting into a snarl. With everything he wished that she would tell him that she hated him, he wished she would slap him or spit on him something that would make killing his feelings for her easier but Imani did none of that, only hanging her head in agony before speaking once more.

“I have grown to love you, and even you can’t take that from me.” With that Imani put her hood back up and walked down the dock to join her sisters in the boat. Out of all of the ‘friends’ they thought they met in King’s Landing only the Dog saw them off. The Hound watched as the only ounce of happiness he had even known and felt sailed away and under the ghost of his guilt he knew that mentally he had to dig a grave for the care he had built for Imani, bury her in all of her golden promise, under the hate and steel of The Hound.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It isn't over.


	17. Chapter 17

There was torment everywhere The Hound looked following the loss of what the Dornishmen would have called his ‘paramour’.  His eyes had played cruel tricks on him, in the early capital light a few days after her departure he had caught the tail end of a silky blue dress as a woman turned the corner of one of the red halls of the keep. In the flashes of flashes due to the orangish, red hue of the hall he had thought he saw with it a brown elbow and a golden decorated upper arm. For whatever foolish reason, driven by manners of heart and lacking logic he had expected to turn that corner and see her. Yet, when he followed, the golden beauty that he hoped to lay his eyes on had turned into just another pale-skinned, brown haired high-lady from a house that he couldn’t give a shit about. Pretty, all of the ladies at court were pretty but none of them were her.

There were other tortures as well, a few days after she left, under the large frame of his bed he found a single feather which had been part of her hand fan. He gripped it in his large palm and stared at it, remember how she had lulled on the bed, fanning herself like a queen.

There had also been a textured single strand of her long, midnight black hair in his sheets. Somehow it had found it’s way out from her tight braids and laid there in the shape of a question mark. As if she was asking why from thousands of leagues away.

_“Why did you hurt me so, Sandor?”_

Phantom Imani’s creeped into his sleep, sometimes nightmares involving the horrors that he feared and reasons he sent her away. The nightmares were almost always the same. Imani with her hand up in fear as she laid on the cold ground staring up at a black eight foot tall shadow that loomed over her with evil intentions and in his nighttime horrors he found a fact that he already knew. Hounds can’t fight and win against Mountains.

The only time he dreamed of her without pain was when wine and ale warmed his blood so much that he passed out from it. In those alcohol-induced blackouts, he would see Imani in harsh sunlight on her knees in grass somewhere he had never been nor seen. Sometimes she would be wearing nothing at all, or bejeweled in gold or wearing  a gauzy white dress that left almost nothing to the imagination with feathers in hair. Picking a wildflower or cupping a firefly in her tan, summer palm as it lit up reflecting the greenish, yellow light in her blacker than black eyes. To capture and pluck his drunken dreams from his mind would be to validate all of those songs he hated, the ones that girls sang and knights hummed, yet that is what she was in all of her fairytale beauty.

 _‘The bear, the bear. The maiden fair’_ indeed although this time the maiden wasn’t fair in tone and bear was actually a dog. In his inebriated fantasies he would touch her velvety smooth, deep mahogany limbs with his large hands, she would allow him to feed on her open mouth and enjoy the taste of her sweet summer fruit silva. Imani, oh _his_  Imani would utter his name with that insidious charm as he thrust himself into her, and she would arch her back and cry out.

With a shutter of perverse delight, he would finish inside of her and we he did in his dreams the deepness of his drunken sleep would call him to do the same in waking life. Only the thought of her, in all of her dark, midnight beauty could cause him to quiver with a physical reaction in sleep he had not experienced since he was a far younger man.

Through the wine and sleep, he found her again and drank deeply and a lot to her keep there. Trying to drown away the guilt of what he had done and the regret of stomping out the only speck of happiness that glittered in his dark, hateful ruined life.

* * *

 

Reeking of alcohol, Sandor stumbled down the dark  streets of King’s Landing at night. If he had indulged in a few more drinks he was sure he would have found himself passed out in some alleyway.  By some miracle he was able to still do his duties as vile Prince Joffrey’s sworn sword and shield even though lately he was either drunk or hungover most of the time. No one seemed care as long as he was able to gut a man and string him up by his bloody entrails. Both things he could do with his eyes closed.

He turned down The Street of Silk and saw the verious brothels. There were some that employed ugly whores who would do a manner of thing for the price of one copper coin, although every man knew that bedding those women could cause anything from itching to rashes that would take weeks to heal or worse...odd oozing from the cock.

He continued down the street in search of some semblance of her, hoping to pay for an imitation that he could let himself go with.

There was a Summer Island madam named Chataya, who owned what he knew was an upper-class brothel there in King’s Landing. Never once had he visited the establishment, he had no need seeing as when he had that human yearning in his loins he went with the middle-grade whores. Reasonably priced, nothing special, but they were clean and wouldn't leave his cock with a burn. Yet, tonight they would not due for what he needed and The Hound was forced by drink and need to find something better and closer to her.

When he passed through the red door of the whorehouse the smell of bright sweet perfumes of incense washed over him. The sale sword guards at the door glanced at each other nervously at his beastly presence in the brothel.  The Hounds eyes slid across the red and orange room, all of the girls at Chataya’s establishment were painted and lovely, bejeweled with beads and gold with smiling beautiful faces.

“Ahh,” he heard a woman’s voice coo as she stepped out from behind a beaded curtain. There stood Madam Chataya, in bright green and dripping with jewels. She was rather beautiful herself, with brown smooth skin and sandalwood colored eyes, yet Sandor knew that her time and body was not for sale. Strolling up to him she smiled and much like the Xe sisters it was nearly impossible to tell her age.

“I see The Hound has come to visit us,” she purred having the same flowery accent that Imani had and the sound, tugged, plucked and yanked at his dark heart strings “What kind of girl are you looking for?” Chataya asked, putting her hands on her ample hips. The Hound didn’t say anything, only allowing his eyes to wander quickly about the warm heated and hotly colored room at the ladies who all could be his for the right price, yet they were all coming up short. Too pale, too tall, fair-haired and even though he had always had a soft spot for auburn hair that reminded him of that girl so long ago that was the first one to touch him even after he had killed his first man yet was still but a boy. That dear Evelyn with her freckled face, fire hair and pale breast buds that would always be beautiful to him due to nostalgia. Yet, he searched for the opposite of those features, wanting and craving the dim faint outline of some other girl that looked like Imani. His lips parted when he saw what he desired, she was laying on a lounge eating grapes. It wasn’t an exact match, she was lighter than Imani, more russet than the rich mahogany he had come to salivate over.  

The whores hair was long and full close to the same wooly texture but not braided. The cut of the whores face was slightly less feline, but she had the slender arms and delicate shoulders.

“Her.” He said coldly, and Chataya glanced over and a smile grew on her full lips.

“Alayaya,” Chataya called to the girl and she got up and strolled over to him. Yet, she lacked Imani’s playful, light movements as well. Chataya presented the brown beauty who was dressed in red silk to him. It was then when he noticed that the painted whore had the same color eyes as the madam and he realized they were related.

“This is my daughter.” She said resemblance was striking yet he assumed they were sisters and not mother and child. Something about that dark summer skin, it simply did not age.

“You can call me Yaya, ser.” The full-lipped beauty said and there was that accent again, yet her’s was more faint than that of her mothers.

“I’m not a knight.” He grummbled lowy, as she took him by his wrist and lead him to a back room that had a rather beautiful yet obscene mural of a harem painted on the furthest wall. Much like the other parts of the whore house this room was also rich in yellows, oranges and most of all lustful reds and silks. He sat on he edge of the large bed, and the lovely young woman named her prices, far more than he had ever paid before but with the wine in his veins and the yearning in his loins he was willing as long as he could imagine Imani through her flesh. He wasn’t sure what he wanted either he would enjoy every hole she had and lick and suck every inch of her or he would barely touch her with any other part of him other than the specter of his passion.

Yaya tried her best not to look at his burns as she started to undress, slightly scared of what he would do her. Everyone knew the Clegane brothers and their violent reputations. Yet, she was surprised when he didn’t ask for anything taboo. Some men liked to slap, choke and do all manners of perverse things to whores, but he only requested for her to undress slowly. He hissed, as her gown hit the stone floor and piled at her feet. To his delight, their bodies were also the same, smooth tits with dark nipples, tiny waists, and supple hips.

“Turn around,” The Hound ordered and she did, he bit his lip at the sight her ass.  Hearing him let out a hum of appreciation for her form and she turned back to face him.

“Do you want me fuck you like I love you? Or for me to fuck you like a whore?” Yaya asked moving closer to him. “They very different acts.”

Clenching his first, he stared at her and tightened his jaw.

"I don't fucking care." He uttered.

"Ahhh, well you can fuck me any way you want." 

The Hound caught a certain something in her voice. “You’re from Omboru aren't you?” He asked with a slight growl in his voice as Yaya reached down and slowly started undoing the laces of his trousers. Fluttering her eyelashes she blinked back up and then smiled with surprise at her client.

“How do you know what island I’m from?”

“Your accent.” His breath hitched when she wrapped her hot palm around his already very hard cock.

“I didn’t know The Hound had friends from there.” She said, slowly stroking him and rocked his hips with the rhythm of her hand.

“I--I don’t,” he uttered.

Yet, Yaya shook her head dismissively. “Yes, you do.” She whispered hotly, before straddling his large lap. Lifting up she slowly lowered herself on his thick, long cock. The Hound clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, as he slipped into her. He wasn't a fool and was way aware that the wetness that made her feel so slick was nothing more than oil that the whores used to stay ready.

Yaya yelped sweetly in surprise when he grabbed her by hips and started to thrust up inside of her. To him there was no Alayaya, vividly imagining Imani’s moist parted lips, wrinkled brows and eyes half-lidded ebony eyes. The phantom scent of burning sunlight, salty ocean and flowers slithered into his senses.

_“Oh--Sandor!”_

Imani’s impossible voice rang in his mind. Yaya moaned in honest pleasure, surprised by him, now positive that he was fucking another through her. Her cunt felt lovely, but the fantasy of Imani coupled with Yaya’s physicality was the thing that got him close so quickly.

_“Yes! Ahhh--right there.”_

Sandor ran his tongue along the crook of Yaya’s neck, causing her to purr in pleasure. Yaya wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers playing in his wavy brown hair. Quickly he grabbed Yaya up and flipped her over on her back without slipping out of her. Grabbing the sheets Yaya gasped as he forced hr legs up and fucked her harder and deeper.

He thrusted himself to the hilt repeatedly into the lovely whore, but with everything he felt, smelt, heard and saw Imani Xe. Braids a mess on the bed, making those alluring faces that spoke of beautiful agony.

_“Sandor….yes….ah….ahhh--!!”_

He felt the delightful sensation of a cunt clenching around his cock as the beauty who it belonged to, gripped the sheets and came. He didn’t stop fucking the faux Imani now pounding her relentlessly and desperate to come himself. Throwing his head back he almost uttered the three syllables of her name but he had enough lucidity to keep that prayer to himself. Yanking out of Yaya he stroked himself quickly, groaning as he shot his warm, white cum onto her indrawn brown stomach.  Without a single a word Sandor got off of the woman who now was back to being just ‘Yaya-the upscale whore’.  Lacing his trousers up quickly before he pulled out his coin pouch. He opened it and to Yaya's surprise he just emptied the coins out in front of her. Parting her lips she went to speak, expecting him to at least turn back around and looked at her but he didn't, only walking out in silent shame that only he would suffer and know in self hate. 

* * *

 

A month a sea was a long time, and the Xe sisters had long grown sick of their rocking Swan Ship that had sailed all the way through the Blackwater, down the Narrow Sea, past the Step Stones and finally making it to the warm waters of their most beloved Summer Sea. There was nothing for what seemed like an eternity until the land masses could be seen in the distance, the bold greenery and pale yellow sand was a sight behold against the crystal clear blue waters below and cloudless sky above. One could see the pinkish colored corals that surrounded the isle of Omboru.

The warm air whipped Imani’s face as she saw her town of Taqa and the holdfast of her family in all of it’s light catching sandstone beauty resting in the region known as the Kissing Vale. Salty, hot tears pricked and burned Imani’s eyes. Her mind not able to stop from going back to the man that she had left behind and the pain that he gave her suffer with.

The things he had said to her, how he hurt her so and for what? Why? What had she done? The worst part was knowing that no matter how many time she asked those impossible questions that she would never know the answer.

Imani sniffled and quickly wiped her cheek once she saw Ekua emerge from the lower deck, looking her usual sharp-eyed self in deep purple.

“You’ve done nothing but cry our whole trip back.” Her elder sister noted looking over at the side of ship at the glittering water that rippled with colorful fish just below the surface. Imani said nothing, only turning away and wiping her hands on her yellow feather dress.

“By the Gods, dear sister pull yourself together.” Ekua urged, sick of her sisters woe. Imani sucked her teeth as Ekua grabbed her by her shoulders.

“ Will you leave me be, please.”

“Leave you be?” Ekua lowered her brow at Imani and shook her head. “I can’t stand to see you sulk another moment over that...man,” Term ‘man’ used lightly, she truly thought he was nothing more than a monster that had somehow had managed to bed her sister, taking Imani's love for the North place called Westeros for granted. “What kind of stories did he tell you to get you to open your legs for him?” She asked, thinking about loud. It felt as if her older sister had opened handedly slapped her across the mouth.

“How dare you…” Imani hissed yanking out of her sister's hands, shaking her head.

“Imani I--”

“No, how dare you of all people judge me on my feelings?” Imani whipped her nose with the back of her hand. “You, the same woman who refuses to remarry and forsakes her rights as our father's heir because you can’t get over the loss of you husband and stillborn baby.” Words transforming into sharp blades to be used to slice at scabbed over emotional wounds. The cold poison that left Imani's month was spurred on by Ekua's judgments on that rocking ship for the last thirty or some odd days.  Imani felt as if she would rip open from all of the emotions that suffocated her, confusion, anger, longing, hurt and fear for her father’s life. Ekua backed away from her red-eyed, teared sister. Her heart now in her gut at the mention of her dead husband and stillborn son.

“How dare you, of anyone judge me on how I feel about Sandor.” Imani hissed. The crewmen of the ship worked around the noble sisters in dark lipped silence, but a few of them glanced over at them, ears listening with interest at all the words being flung around. Turning on the heel of her slipper, and with a flick of her long black braids Imani went to walk away, wanting nothing more than to make dock soon, so that she could finally be out of the confines of that ship. Yet, Ekua’s voice stopped her in mid-step.

“Did he fuck his hatefulness into you as well?!” She yelled at her younger sister, who to her was being nothing more than an insufferable little bitch.  The crew went silent, and the only sound was the waves crashing against the bottom of the Goldenwood ship. Imani clenched her fist and whipped back around to confront Ekua. Picturing knocking her overboard, it wouldn't be fatal, of course, she knew how to swim, yet was a long way to the shore. Yet, the loud ominous sound of bells ringing from the island sunk Imani's heart.  Asha came running from the lower deck,  and the sisters all exchanged wide-eyed glances before collectively realizing what it meant.

* * *

The court members of their house had gathered on the golden shore, and with no words the three sisters knew that their father had succumbed to the sickness he had fought. Yet, the bells hadn’t been for his death but to welcome the new head of the ancient lineage of  Xe. The three  sisters stepped out of the boat that had taken them to dock. All of them wet-faced and red-eyed in grief, but they had to choke back their tears for now all were watching. Standing there hand and hand Imani trembled in the middle, palms sweating as she swallowed what felt like a mouth of hot sand. The shared hurtful words between her and Ekua now mattered not.

Ladies, lords, members of the noble committee, guards, and servants all bowed alike at the sight of them, the young now orphaned panthers and the princess heir among her two sisters. Shaman Mother Hoza Xomo stepped forward, holding a golden bowl in her old hands, wearing her usual crown of feathers and bones in black for mourning.

“Our panther has died, going to meet the Gods no more than three nights ago. But when one panther falls another takes their place.” She said in their native tongue, Imani grabbed on to her sister's hands tighter.

“Bless her.” The court said in tandem.

“Imani Xe, step forward,” The Shaman Mother called, and before giving her sisters another glance she let their hands go and stepped from between them. Hot tears painfully prickling her eyes, but she made no move to wipe them away, any they spilled over and ran down her dark brown cheek. The old woman dipped her fingers into the bowl covering them with purple pigment.

“Imani Xe of Isle Omboru,” The old woman raised her wrinkled fingers and drew one bright line down the center of Imani’s face, “Born of The Panther Blood..” One line under her right eye and another under her left. “I name you Princess of this house and these lands.” The shaman reached up and smeared the paint from the bottom of Imani's eyes, causing half of her face to be coated purple.

“Bless her.” The court said again in tandem and bird of paradise sung a song on a nearby tall tree. Two girl priestesses walked up, one holding a black panther pelt in her young arms and the other held on to the bladed staff that was passed down from Xe ruler to Xe ruler. Both of her sisters watched with tears in theirs eyes as Imani lowered herself and was draped in the skin of their animal, and took the staff in her tan palms.

Stepping forward she narrowed her onyx eyes in the sunlight and looked up at sandstone holdfast that was built by her forefathers. She started to walk, having left as the heir and now returning as the realized successor. Her sisters followed her and the court behind them, as she stepped up the limestone stairs that led from the dock to the wide common dirt common street.  Shopkeepers, honored whores, and families had started to gather outside of their blood wooden homes under the shade of the brilliant green of the tropical trees to greet their new princess.

As the sandstone keep grew slowly at the end of the large street Imani could not hold back her tears even though she was given praise by her people. The decorative paint ran from her grieving tears. The thought of Sandor Clegane and Westeros was pushed from her mind at the loss of her dear, kind father. For she knew no better ruler in all of the Isles or the world such as him.  The memories of him bouncing her on his knee when she was a small girl swelled her heart. After seeing how daughters were treated in the north, Imani realized how lucky she was to have such a father. Tilting her head to the blue cloudless sky as she wept, and the holdfast with it’s painted pillars seemed as if they would take an eternity to get to in her despair. Yet, she continued although she wanted to do nothing but sob and wallow in suffering. Ever so close the did her home inch closer to her, and the more and more it did she realized that she wasn't ready. Gods, protect her for she was too young to lead, Sandor had been right in his hateful words. She truly knew nothing.

“You know nothing, you stupid little girl. How could you know anything?"

Imani shuttered with a cry as she walked with the fear that her ignorance of the world could cause her house to crumble. She would give all the gold, she now controlled, all the lands that ruled and all of her worries bows for the chance to see her father again. Finally right outside of the doors of the palace Imani heard the voice of an old man.

“Give us many heirs.” He whispered as she walked by, and to her surprise when she turned to face him she saw that he was blind, but his white eyes seemed to be looking down at her stomach.

  
In that second her emotionally delicate and fragile mind counted backward , how long had it been? How long since her read flower had bloomed? She couldn't remember but she realized then that it was far longer than a cycle. The last time she remembered the blood had been back in King's Landing, the thought of it made her think of the night that she and Sandor laid together even though she was bleeding.  The passion of the memory was gone when the large doors Goldenwood doors opened and Imani slowly wandered inside of the keeps  golden magnificence. Rattled with shock and despair, Imani rested her back to one of the brightly painted pillars. The ceremonial panther pelt slipped off of her narrow shoulders, falling to the white and blue mosaic grand floor, followed by the staff, and then her; as her knees gave out.  Putting her hand on her lower abdomen Imani let out such a loud and woeful cry that felt as if he would hear her across the seas all the way in King’s Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm such a bitch for this lmaoooo.


	18. Chapter 18

 

**Before:**

**_\--_ **

_Her low lit chambers were muggy, with the aroma of spilled imported plum wine from her island hanging damply in the air. Sandor grabbed her by her chin, as she straddled his large lap, watching her expression as she lowered herself down onto his hard cock. He wasn’t sure how long they had been enjoying each other possibly more than two hours. He had fucked her once already and she had clawed at the wall, that he had pressed her up against. Much to his delight and surprise Sandor somehow managed to work himself back up to the point where he yearned for her again., even more horribly than he did the first time._

_By the flicker and flash of pain that danced across her features, he could tell she was a bit sore from his girth. Yet, Imani was a sportive little lassie and refused to let the dull ache stop her from enjoying another romp with him. She brushed her moist lips against his, and when he darted his tongue out he could taste the sweetness of the exotic mango that she had enjoyed not more that ten minutes ago, in between perversions._

_“Does it hurt?” He asked grabbing her hips, as he slowly pulled her down to take all of him, his loins quivered when he watched her roll her eyes and part her mouth with a low moan._

_“A bit but--”_

_“You like it,” Sandor whispered, finishing her sentence before starting to thrust up into her. Her sexual delights fascinated him, never did he ever think that someone so sweet could be such a devious little thing that enjoyed all manners of debauchery._

_“It--ahh-- reminds me of where you’ve been.” Imani panted as he slipped in and out of her._

_“Fuck,” he hissed at her words. He gripped her hips tighter and Imani wrapped her arms around him, cat claws dragging down his muscular back._

_“Harder,” she ordered._

_“No.” Sandor refused, he really could hurt her. She felt so fragile in his arms, like a porcelain doll that could easily be snapped in two. Yet, Summer Isle lady or not she was highborn and was used to getting what she wanted. Imani clenched her teeth and clawed at his back, deeper, threatening to draw blood._

_“Seven Hells!” He growled at the sting and a second later Imani crushed her mouth against his. Forcing her tongue into his mouth, he groaned at the sweet taste of her spit. He had wondered how she could taste so good to his palate, her saliva, her cunt and even the saltiness of her sweat which he had tasted when he ran his tongue along the crook of her long hot neck plenty of times, and he was positive that if he got to ever taste her blood that he would enjoy that as well. His lust for the brown, raven-haired beauty almost made him sick, what type of witchcraft did she possess over him? Suddenly Imani nipped at his bottom lip causing him to groan more in surprise than pain, and she looked at him with her dark, dark ebony eyes._

_“I said, fuck me harder...Ser.” Wicked little cat, she knew what she had done with that last word, how he hated being called that for he was no knighted and spat on their vowels. Yet, she wanted a response from him and she got it. The Hound clenched his teeth almost snarling with anger and hot fired lust, he lifted petite Imani off of him as if she weighed nothing and threw her to the bed. He heard her giggle, and he hissed at the sweet, little, mocking sound. Getting on top of her he used one hand to force her tight brown leg up, her knee almost touching her ear.  Covering her mouth with his other palm he slammed back into her, Imani let out a muffled cry and arched her back._

_“Ser?” He growled, he hated how good she plucked at his strings. The bed banged against the stone wall, and the golden anklets that she wore chimed loudly. There was the lewd wet noise of him stroking in and out of her, and Imani rolled her eyes in their sockets. She wished she could cry out “YES! Just like that, Sandor!” but she couldn’t speak, his hand silencing her probably for the better. She curled her toes, feeling the building pressure deep in her throbbing core. Sandor dug his nails into the soft flesh of her thigh, feeling himself grow closer and closer by the feeling of her wet, warm cunt. Imani threw her head back and clenched the sheets, yanking and tugging at them. The sheen of sweat glistened on her skin, and he felt her tongue lick at his salty palm. His cock was hitting the right spot inside of her. His eyes lingered on the pulsing vein at her neck, her twat squeezed around him as she twitched and convulsed. Making desperate muffled panting and moaning noises under his hand. Pleasured tears pricked Imani’s eyes, as she shuttered with an aftershock._

_Sandor removed his hand from her lips but didn’t stop, he was close just a bit more. Through her half lidded eyes, Imani saw his face right before he when he came, he bit his lip and wrinkled his brow as he yanked out of her. He uttered her name with a sort of sigh, which was boyish in away as he shot his warm cum onto her indrawn belly. Imani gave him a hazy, dreamy smiled and hummed lovingly as she ran her delicate fingers through the sticky seed and in his surprise she brought her fingertips to her mouth and tasted it._

_“Fucking hell...you are…” He uttered cupping her by her chin and run his thumb over her full lips. He wondered how he got so lucky, how could he fuck her? Why did she allow him to touch her, feel her, kiss_ her. _His mind couldn’t make sense of it, no matter how many times he tried to rationalize her attraction for him his self-hate made it impossible. Imani, with the dark skin of silk, hair of cashmere, full lips and eyes of onyx had given herself to him so willingly in all manners and ways and for the life of him he could no understand. Imani blinked up at him, waiting for him to finish his sentence expecting for him to call her ‘beautiful’ ‘sweet’ or even ‘perfect’ yet he said nothing, words getting lost his throat and he only recoiled. Sandor drew away, sitting on the edge of the bed he_ re-laced _his trousers and reached down to grab his tunic off of the floor._

_“It’s late, I should go,” Sandor told her, he heard a whine and a second later causing a quiver in his heart Imani had crawled into his large lap and curled up._

_“Please don’t,” she whispered, gently and he felt her nuzzle the side of her face against his dark chest hair. Sandor rested his large hand on her dewy leg and she could hear his heartbeat. There was silence between them for a moment before she spoke._

_“You should come with me when I leave.” Her sunny voice just above a shy whisper. Sandor wasn’t sure if he had heard her right, did she just ask him to leave King’s Landing and go with back to her green and blue island? For a second his mind ran off with images, her in burning sunlight, her tan palms flecked with grains of golden sand. The palm trees, the birds, and the blue waters. Yet, such dreams were just that...dreams._

_“What would I do in the Summer Isles?” He asked an Imani looked at up at him as if confused by his question._

_“You would live,” she said simply, and he wished that that he could enjoy and share in her innocent naive just for one second. He clenched his jaw and shook his head at the beauty. What a sweet, foolish dream she had for him, the dog, The Hound._

_“No.” He said and Imani tilted her head not understanding. “I don’t belong there, I could never belong where you hail from.”_

_“Why do you say that?” She asked, and gasped when he cupped her under her chin and forced her to look at him. Sweeping back his brown hair he exposed more of the mutilated burns on the side of his face to her._

_“What do you see when you look at me?” Sandor hissed, but she kept her gaze to his eyes._

_“I see Sandor Cl--”_

_“Stop it!” He gripped her face tighter. “You see a fucking monster, you see a dog, you see a killer, don’t lie to me or to yourself.”_

_“Tis no lie.” Imani protested smacking his hand away before she sat up and straddled him again, running her fingers through his brown hair._

_“You are a beautiful little liar.” Sandor whispered, running his hand up her smooth back. “You know that I’m a killer, you know that I belong in a killer's world, not your home of beauty and peace.”  He said, watching as Imani closed her eyes in sorrow before she rested her head on his shoulder and sighed.  “Save yourself the pain, Lady Imani. I’m well aware of what you are, accept what I am. You’ll be much happier that way.”_

* * *

 

**Nineteen fortnights after King’s Landing:**

\--

The pain from the contractions was unbelievable, and for a split second Imani thought she would die there, in that bed on her back. The last three months of her pregnancy was all of what they called the Seven Hells. She had been bedridden for the last fortnight because her small frame could barely handle the weight of the child that felt like a boulder in her belly.

Even through the hard pregnancy Imani's rule over her house and lands were steady. The people loved her, taking inspiration from her father's rule she had made sure the orphanages had enough food and clothing. Profit from exports of their woods, spices, and foods were at all time high, and her stay in the Capital had gained her connections. The Master of Coin, Littlefinger had written her and asked for a small loan for the crown, she given them the gold they needed and in return she was gifted tons of castle forged steel for arms, steel a material that the Summer Isles desperately lacked.

Imani had wondered if little birds had sung about her and her swollen belly and if a certain dog had heard them already. There had been many scrolls which were destroyed by fire.

_Dear, Sandor._

_I know you said you do not ever wish to speak to me again and I still do not understand--_

 

She burnt that letter with the light of a small candle.

_Dear, Sandor Clegane_

_I write this to simply state a fact that you should know, I am with child and it is yours.  I wish only to tell you this so you are aware of your bastard._

There were no such things as ‘bastards’ in the Summer Isles,  so that letter was ripped up and then the burnt the pieces. She had a hard time even writing his name, the two syllables of his for his first and then the two for his family name still tugged at her heart. She could never hope to write him a full letter anytime soon.

Only a few people knew of her suffering. Ekua wanted her to drink Moon Tea as soon as she told her that she was with child. 

_“What if it’s a killer like he is?”_

Ekua would say, her words like a blade into Imani’s already pained heart. She had told her many times that Sandor Clegane's son would kill her on his way out because that was in its nature, to be violent, to hurt those that loved it most. The blood knows. Little Asha who was fond of The Hound was far less cold when it came to the child inside of her sister that would make her an aunt. She would put her ear to Imani’s belly and listen and feel for the baby's kicks and would refer the unborn child as the ‘pup’.

Shaman Mother Hoza Xomo entered Imani’s birthing room, to find the princess sweating and clenching at the bedsheets.

“Is it almost time? Is it ready?” Imani panted, wanting it out as soon as possible

“Let us take a look.” The old woman said she had delivered hundreds of children with bony hands. Giving birth could be a deadly thing, yet the Shaman Mother out of all of her years had only lost four babies and three mothers while he tended to them. Yet, Imani was still terrified at the unknown, scared that Ekua would be right and that he would kill her. The Shaman Mother took a seat at the edge of the bed and glanced between Imani’s spread legs.

“You’re ready.” The old woman said, and noticed that usual look of fear. She reached up and took Imani’s hand. “Today you bring a new panther into the world.”

* * *

 

Push.

Push.

Push.

Scream.

Push.

Curse him.

Curse him

Push.

 Imani’s face was wet with salty tears because of the pain and also because she longed for him to be there. Yet, no amount of praying to her gods, to The Seven, to the Old Ones in the north, to even R'hllor in the east could bring him to her. Her screams kept the whole holdfast awake, lords and ladies anxiously waiting the child born out of their beloved ruler and the man they only knew of from whispers.

_Sandor Clegane, they call him The Hound. And is one of the most feared men in all of Westeros. They say he stands seven feet tall, has killed over one hundred men and is as mean as the vicious dogs he is named after._

“I--I can’t do this!” Imani choked, the pain was blinding she would rather die and meet that Stranger he told her about than to stay alive in agony for one more moment.  

“No! You are almost there.” The Shaman Mother urged. Imani clenched her teeth and pushed. “I pulled you and both of your sisters from your mother, and you were the one that gave her the most trouble.” The old woman said, trying to keep the princess calm. The head out and she had the words part; the shoulders to go. Imani cried, and yanked at the sheets. “You’re mother almost fainted trying to get you out, but she fought it, wanting to see your face as soon as you left her.” Imani pushed again, sweat dripping down her forehead. “Almost there!” Imani let out a scream that could shatter sky and shake the oceans, and with a feeling of relief the pain dropped and she fell limp and exhausted on the bed. And the sound of a cry cracked through the muggy air, summer isle air. With limp shaking arms, Imani reached out for the bloody bundle in the old woman's hands.

“My son… please let me hold my pup.” She uttered, weak yet not broken. The Shaman handed over the crying baby and Imani met the child of two lands for the first time.

“Oh...by all of the Gods.” Imani uttered, realizing that his was no son, but a daughter. “She’s beautiful…” The heavy door opened and Imani heard her younger sister's voice

“He’s light.” Imani heard Asha say as she talked in with an excited step.

“She.” The new mother corrected. Ekua’s regale form appeared in the doorway and she looked in, a surprise that she had been wrong the whole time about the sex. Asha sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at her new niece.

“She’s so light.” The little lady smiled.

“Well, her father was rather pale,” Imani said, still staring down at her baby girl in awe. Ekua stepped inside and slowly moved over to the bed, and the old shaman sat slightly surprised when Imani bat an eyelash at afterbirth, so enthralled with her daughter that's he didn't even notice. The elder sister made her way closer to bed and when she saw that newborns face it felt as if a blue sea wave had washed away all of her hate and bile for the baby and her father that had put her in Imani’s belly. Ekua slowly sat down on the other side of her sister, hot happy yet surprising tears flooded her eyes. She had lost her own child years ago, but looking at that new niece made her bitterness subside a tiny bit

“If we were in Westeros her surname would be ‘Hill’ because House Clegane is a Westerlands house.” Imani uttered, talking to her sisters yet her dark eyes stayed on her child. “But this is the Summer Isles and we have no bastards.” Imani gently touched the baby's soft face and was surprised when she opened her little eyes for the very first time, eyes that she shared with her father. “You are Mereya Xe and maybe one day when I’m strong enough to tell him you might take his name as well. Mereya of Isle Omboru and The Westerlands born of the Panther and The Hound.”

_**-End of Act 1** _


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has descriptions of PTSD, and physical abuse.

**Act- 2**

\--

A name, a foreign name, Imani… _Imani._ The ‘I’ which due to his own accent and the move of his lips would be spoken as more of an “Ah” with a short of a deep throated sigh.

That name had not been uttered by his ruined Westerosi lips in over a year and a half. No, Imani nor talk of elder or little Xe sisters, nothing. Unconsciously he had built a cage, not a tangible one, yet a cage none the less and behind those imaginary bars he had put her. Imani and everything about her was locked away, put in the very back of his mind, the deepest darkest parts, in the recesses that stayed untouched.

It was as if The Hound had wrapped his own large sweating hands around the brown, long necks of every phantom that bared her resemblance that dared enter a daydream or nightmare and choked them. As if had strangled them, squeezing the life out of them...killed them. His own past trauma had made it easy for him to forget. For years, long before her and her golden glow he had locked away memories that were filled with pain and regret. There was so much that he hid, compartmentalized, buried under the steel and hate of the snarling lipped and foaming mouthed Hound.

There were piles of bodies, not the men he killed in battle, they were not the ones that burden him. The ones that did were the others, High-lords, old men, women and even a few children who had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. He had told himself they everyone was meat that that he was the butcher, doing a job following orders like the good Dog that he was - the only thing that he was.

On that stinking maggot filled, rotting heap of fleshy rue Imani sat, the shade of hers face wet with hot tears. Her summer body sat next to the sister of his who’s face was a pale blur and he had been too young to save. His subconscious taking the form of Imani and held a boy of seven years in her lap as he cried due to the bubbling burns on the side of his face. Somehow her black pitted eyes would look at him from the inside out and ask _“Why? Why? Why?"_ over and over again. Although he had long stopped listening, the man she had known as Sandor Clegane had lost even more of himself. Flayed bits, missing, lost and gone replaced and he was receding, backing away into the mouth of the beast, being swallowed alive by his own creation, The Hound. He was now filled with far more hate and cruelty than he had ever had before due to the loss of her, the girl he had forced himself to forget.

* * *

  
King Robert Baratheon was dead, gored by a hog that was said to have been as fat as him. With his death, he left his kingdom to his eldest son and now The Hound was not the sworn shield and sword for a prince but rather to a king.

His Grace, Joffrey of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. That horror of horrors.

The Hound had always known that Joffrey was a little monster who had loved to pick the wings of innocent flies but after the late king's death it had only got worse, something that had seemed impossible, yet happened anyway. He had beheaded King Robert's friend and quickly served Hand of The King, Eddard Stark. The simple order for Ser Ilyn Payne to swing his sword and snip Stark's neck had started a war, a war that they called one of The Five Kings.

Eddard losing his head was not the only reason that there was now turmoil in Westeros. There had been rumors, and whispers that Joffrey no claim to the iron throne, because he was not King Robert’s son at all and was only the spawn of incest between Queen Cersei and her brother The Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister. Yet, to loyal dogs such utters meant nothing, Joffrey was king so he did his job and he served him all the while watching him slip further and further into madness. It was not his place to question a prince or a king, yet there were moments that made his brow twitch. Those moments having mostly to do with the Stark girl, the dead Hand of the King's eldest daughter.

Like another girl before her, she was to be Joffrey's bride. Starks daughter was to marry him, to become queen one day, and give him little princes and princess. Just like a predecessor who, with her sister was missing from his mind. A future that the new little fool obviously wanted but no one had told her that golden haired Joffrey would become her nightmare and she found out that King’s Landing could be every one of the Seven Hells once her father was killed. Her elder brother who they had called 'The Young Wolf' had declared war on Joffrey and The Iron Throne, her sister who come with her was now missing and presumed dead, leaving Sansa Stark alone and nothing more than a glorified prisoner of war.

Sandor had seen how Joffrey treated the girl who was to have his children one day, he would demean her, insult her, and even had laughed when he had taken her up to the palace walls and made her look at her father's head as it sat rotting on a pike. The Hound was a monster, he knew it, but Joffrey was truly one of the worst shits The Seven Kingdoms.

There was something about that poor girl, with her hair of fire and skin of milk, was it because she reminded him of that long gone farmer's daughter, that ghost named Evelyn? That is what he figured, it was the simplest explanation and the one that he had gone with. Yet, his mind simply did not allow him to understand fully until that day, that single moment that broke the cage that brought that one forgotten girl back.

“You're here to answer for your brother's latest treasons,” King Joffrey said, standing in front of the throne made of swords, aiming a crossbow at the kneeling, poor fatherless, redheaded girl. As always Sandor stood guarding his king, yet simultaneously hating him.

_You're only good enough to serve._

His lack of self-worth, named The Hound hissed. More of a servant to his won violent side than he was to any king or would ever be.

“Your grace! Whatever my traitor brother has done I had no part in! You know that! I beg you, please!” The poor girl groveled there on the floor in front of the court, humiliated and shaking with terror. Sandor knew Joffrey would not kill her, but his fist clenched anyway, the girls little whimpers tugging at something long dead inside of him. Sansa cried, as they said things about her brother and cures her Northern blood.

"Killing you would send your brother a lesson..." Joffrey said and the girl yelped. "But my mother insists on keeping you alive."

As The Hound expected Joffrey put down his weapon but then he decided that she still needed to be punished for her brother's actions, as if she had something to do with her brothers war or battles. The Hound had killed on orders, he was hateful on orders, Lannister orders, but the Kings credulity for cruelties sake reminded him of his brother. Joffrey used harming because it aroused him, it got him off. The sick little monster.

Joffrey called forward Ser Meryn Trant, and the King's Guard in his white cloak, who had taken hypocritical vows made good on his order to beat the girl. Sandor watched as he punched her in her gut, the members of the court let out shocked gasps, this was atrocious and unheard of, and even though his own hands had long dripped with blood from his own killings, this public show of punishment was nothing short of sadistic. Something the Mad King would do. Trant hit her in the back of the leg with the flat end of his sword, causing her to fall to the marble floor, she clenched her teeth in pain and held her abdomen.

“Ser, my lady is overdressed...unbutton her,” The King ordered and it was then, with the rip of her blue dress, did her pale face take on an expression that he had seen once before as she tried to cover her pale breast buds from the eyes that watched. The movement of the wrinkled brows, the desperately frowning lips, salty tears streaming down the cheeks, the wet matted lashes and the face that only could speak of “Why? Why? Why?”

He could see the illusion of the girl, that brown flower, with black of hair, crying, crying at the dock in the dusky dark as if he was killing her. Yet, her beauty had not been diminished by her sobs, much like the girl on her knees in front of him. Their features were nothing alike, one of night, and one of fire. One from the cold, chilly north, the other from the sunny, hot south as south could be. So he struggled to understand how was possible that it seemed that their faces, like reflections on a rippling pond, had overlapped in that moment of flash and shiver that caused every single memory of that girl who was more than a thousand leagues away to be recalled. Unknowingly to everyone, Sandor Clegane stood there feeling ill to his gut The surge of repressed memories manifesting with a very real and tangible physical reaction.

 _“A bear, there was a bear, a bear…”_  

Her voice sung suddenly in his mind clear as day, just as she had in that very hall in what seemed like forever ago when she had stood there in the exact spot that Sansa Stark knelt. An oil painted memory, overlapping with the present. Her disembodied laugh rippled through his skull, agony, agony, agony. In a manner of seconds, his traumatized mind had recalled moments, like still slices of time. The shattering of a wine pitcher, a peacock feather fan, hot moist lips kissing his sword, the chime of an anklet, the taste of a mango, her accented words speaking his name...

_“Sandor Clegane.”_

The king's uncle, the imp and new Hand of The King had just walked in and demanded that his nephew stop his torment of his future queen.  
“Someone get the girl something to cover herself with,” Tyrion demanded, and Sandor stepped forward, his legs feeling as they moved on their own volition. He yanked off his filthy white cloak and the girl who seemed more like a wounded little bird half way looked up at him. Her flushed face still wet with tears. Sandor dropped the cloak over her pale shoulders, the simple act causing another memory to surface from its mental grave.

A recollection of Imani sleeping in morning glow, her head resting on his massive bare chest. She had asked him to say and lay with her for a bit with her in her chambers after he had like most nights completely fucked her to the point of exhaustion. Somehow ‘a bit’ turned into all night, and the sun had slowly started to ascend up the horizon and he go. Somehow the movement of him getting up had not disturbed her deep slumber, nor did the sound of him putting his steel armor back on. Imani only hummed a something that he didn't make out and flipped over on her back. Lying sprawled out on the bed, thin limbs out like starfish arms, the most titillating parts of her visible to his dark voyeuristic leer. Sandor looked at her, his eyes on the black wooly hair between her silken, brown thighs. Her lovely skin was all gooseflesh and her dark nipples were had due to the early morning chill. Grabbing up the bedsheet that had been kicked off the previous night while she moaned under him, Sandor gently covered the braided haired beauty. As if shielding her nakedness from an invisible audience. The feeling of the cool sheet on her flesh was the thing that cause her black eyes to open and she looked up at him.

And just as his dark, palpitating darling from memory had done Sansa Stark blinked up at him and her sorrowful gaze caught his. At that moment, that girl with the bloodshot, glassy blue eyes had no idea the apparition who she had unknowingly exhumed, the lock she had broken with only a flashing expression and salty tears. And Sandor stared down at her, hating her for what she had ignorantly had summoned as she gripped his cloak tightly with her pink-flushed knuckled hands.

Sansa Stark could not fathom the hurt that was ~~born~~ , reborn in his ruined heart. 

* * *

 

The Red Keep was dim, a dusky blue hue lighting the hallway only partially with the quickly setting sun. The long Summer had been declared over by the Maesters a few weeks ago and the days were getting only a bit shorter and the capital’s air was still warm, and the night-time crickets still made their sounds of summer in the distance.

Sansa put her hand on her abdomen as she walked down the lonely hall. Her belly still ached from Ser Meryn Trant’s armored punch. Tears pricked her eyes as she thought about what she had gone through earlier that day.

“I wish I was in Winterfell,” Sansa whispered to herself, wiping her tears away with the back of her pale hand. She stopped when she heard the sound of armor from down the hallway, her shaky eyes scrambled up from the tan stone floor as she looked down the long corridor. The large silhouette was all she could she could see in the dim light but that was all she needed to know who it was. The Hound. Should she thank him for covering her with his cloak? That would have been the ladylike thing to do, but she was so scared of him. He was so mean, so vile so full of hate, yet...he still had covered her. Her young mind couldn't comprehend shades gray, seeing the world in black and white. His dual nature confused her and her youth impaired her from understanding the complexity of the world around her. Yet, the lady her mother had raised her to be had compelled her to want to thank him. Swallowing hard she tried to dispel her fear of the burned man mentally preparing to talk to him.

It wasn't until he got a little closer that Sansa realized that he wasn’t look up and hadn’t seen her yet. Much like her gaze had been his eyes were cast down. She blinked when she thought she had seen a pinprick of yellow, green light suddenly flicker into existence beside. It was a firefly, an insect that only lived in warm climates. Sansa had never actually seen one, the north was far too cold for them flourish. It lit up again, this time flying closer to The Hound massive form and he noticed it's light. Sansa watched as he stopped dead and his head followed the insect. With one quick movement of his large hand, he snatched the bug out of the air. Standing there Sandor clenched his fist, tighter and tighter, crushing the innocent winged creature with his massive fist. Thoughts again coming slithering intrusively into his mind.

Them in the garden, that one immortal night the very last time he kissed and fondled Imani before the ivory tower came crashing down.

_“Oh...look at that.”_

Her voice uttered through memory as he slowly opened his fist and stared down at the dead insect in the center of his huge palm.  
In the garden, a firefly had landed on her smooth brown shoulder and flickered with its glow. Sandor’s eyes widened slightly, and his hand shook. Recalling her otherworldly perfection in that fleeting second of dead time. How Imani- _his_ Imani had looked with the dewy grass stains on her gown, dirt on her tan marbled palms and ruined hair style as she reached up and the little firefly stepped on to her dark slender finger.

Sandor remembered the knot in his throat and the twist in his gut when he looked at her and saw the light reflect in her ebony eyes. How she had looked as if being conjured from the fairytales that septas told children, the same stories that he hated with every inch of his soul. He knew the words that he wanted to tell her, but could not due to his own self loathing and twisted insecurities. Sandor's lips twitched, and he felt like he was about to utter her name, but once again the words got trapped behind the jaws of The Hound. Speaking the name would make what his traumatized mind had killed live again.

Glancing up and saw Sansa standing there at the end of the all way, he clenched his teeth and stared at her. Hating her and her pretty face that had taken on the reflection of another. How dare she? The Hound took a lurching step towards her, and the dim light illuminated his rageful, pained face. With wide doe-like eyes, fear rippled through the young woman and as most ladies she turned and ran away from him. Like all the others except one….leaving him there to suffer alone with the taunting ghost of his not so long ago past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imani will be in the next chapter, she was going to be in this one but fuck this got really long.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If this chapter had a title it would be called "Fire and Blood"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might be a bit confusing to those who have only seen the show, or don't know about a lot of the symbology that is present in the novels. At the end of this chapter, there is a note kind of explaining a bit of the stuff that shows up, check it out if you would like more context :)

There was the smell of incense in the golden candlelit, island air. Red and purple silks and painted black panthers with gold-flecked eyes were on the walls decorated the room in which the princess sat. Lounging against fine cushions embroidered with threads of golden silk, Imani Xe held her daughter in her arms. A bird of paradise someone where off in the distance sung a song from a Goldenwood tree, as Imani smiled and looked down at her child.

Little Mereya was sleeping, comfortable in her mother’s delicate, warm dark arms. Her skin was tan like clay, her black full hair was far less of wool than that of their mother’s and more of defined coils. Her eyes and the makings of her strong nose were that of her Clegane father, and even at her young toddler age Imani could tell that she would also inherit Sandor's massive height. A daughter of Clegane blood indeed. Imani stroked her sleeping babes supple cheek, yet the sleeping beauty did not stir at all. As a newborn, swaddled in purple cloth Imani would whisper tales to her cub-pup about the land that half of her was from. Stories of dragons, Walls, Iron Thrones, and she knew that once Mereya was old enough she would one day sail there to see Westeros herself. Maybe even to The Westerlands to see her father's family keep herself. The mothers of her court had told her that babies could be a handful, that they would cry, scream and throw horrible tantrums. Imani had heard tales about herself when she was Mereya's age, and Ekua had even mentioned that she had been a spiteful little child. Yet, her daughter who had the blood of killers was a joyous baby, who laughed, and almost never cried.

“Princess Imani," she heard one of her servants say, she looked up to see the young woman standing in the archway of the golden room. Imani beckoned her forward with a wave of her hand the room. The servant stepped in and walked over to her with small rolled parchment scrolls in her hands.

“These just arrived for you,” she said and Imani reached out and took the messages.  
“Aye, thank you. Could you please take the little one and put her in chambers for a nap?” Imani asked handing off her daughter off to the pretty young servant.

“Of course,” she said, with a smile as Mereya only yawned and cooed in her arms before falling back into her usual dead sleep. Imani waited until her daughter and the servant had left the room before she focused back on the parchment. Girlishly Imani sat up and chewed her bottom lip as she examined the wax seal on the first one. Her eyebrow twitched when she recognized the symbol that was intended in the wax, it belonged to The Hand of The King. Imani made an almost repulsed hacking noise from he back of her throat, what could the crown under monstrous boy king Joffrey want now? Word of his atrocities had traveled from King's Landing to every corner of the known world and everyone from the poorest of villages to the richest of cities had heard of the allegations that The King of the Andles was nothing more than a bastard born of incest. It did make all of the sense in the world.

Imani broke the seal and unrolled the parchment scroll. She was surprised to see that The Hand of The King was none other than Tyrion Lannister. The last thing she had heard from her contacts to the North was that his father, Tywin Lannister, had been named The Hand after Joffrey took the last one’s head for "treason", igniting war with the very far north.

Her onyx eyes read over the letter, he had almost called her ‘Lady Imani Xe’ but had striked through it out and put her proper title ‘Princess Imani Xe, of Isle Omboru’. Pursuing her full lips, she twirled one thick braid around her delicate finger as read over the dwarves words. It said that they had reason to believe that Stannis Baratheon, King Robert’s brother was maneuvering to attack King’s Landing by ship. Imani vaguely remembered seeing Stannis during her time in the capital back then he had been the Master of Ships on the small council but she never actually uttered a single word to the man. She had found him cold and a person lacking humor and had the charm of a severed limb. And now he had proclaimed himself the rightful heir to The Iron Throne, given the king and his siblings questionable parentage. Tyrion’s letter went on to request part of Imani’s Swanship fleet, seeing as she was, as he put it “A friend of the crown.” Imani rolled her eyes into the back of her head at the words. She had always liked Tyrion, he was witty, smart, and she had found him far more interesting than his golden brother Jamie, yet he seemed a bit foolish to assume that she had any interest in helping with a war that was not hers.

"What are you up--" she stopped muttering to herself when she came to the next line.

_'I know you have ties here’_

Imani tightened her lip, the only possible person he could be referring to was Sandor Clegane.

_“Of course you would want something if you saw it fit to come to the aid of King’s Landing. I’m willing to give you something that I know is worth more than gold to you. Your Dog.”_

Imani blinked and reread the sentence again mouthing the words just to be sure she was seeing it right, she did. Clever little lord, she thought that only her contact knew of their affair, yet here was a Lannister using that very thing as a bargain. What a proposal.

Sitting back Imani laid supine, staring up at nothing. Her mind went off on a dizzy daydream. Imagining her guards dragging him in front of her, bound, his head covered so he has no idea where he was. It would take more than five men to even subdue him. Imani bit her lip at the wicked thought, what would his reaction be once they uncovered his eyes and he saw her standing in front of him. She didn’t know how either of them would react, had everything he said at the dock on that dim misty night true? Did he hate her? Imani shook her head at the still festering painful memory. Would she slap him? He possibly could tell her that once he was free he would kill her for kidnapping him, that no one treated The Hound like that. She could only imagine him narrowing his eyes in that dangerous, violent way, clenching his jaw. And just as much as she could imagine his anger she could invasion her own hands raising her bladed staff to his neck, hissing with a dark promise that she would split him open for the pain her put her though.  
Yet, the scorn that filled Imani's hot veins were hollow, empty words from a place of heartache and that she could never really harm him. The dreamy part of her wanted to believe that the reunion wouldn’t be sour, maybe he would whisper her name in awe that it was her and that she would instantly forgive him. Like a girl she dreamed of being back with the man, the only man, or person, she had every loved and to hear him utter those words to her.

Putting the letter to her chest Imani let out a heavy sigh, yearning for the feeling of his large rough hands on her body, raking his teeth along the crook of neck, his fingers between her thighs. Yet, she knew that her thoughts were nothing but idle, dry daydreams.  
“No,” she uttered to herself feeling warm confused tears pool in her dark eyes. She had told him before in the dim dark of his chambers that he was no dog, not a slave with masters even though he served like one. What kind of person would she be of she bargained for him? If bought him like an animal after all of her talks of how he wasn’t The Hound but rather Sandor Clegane, who would that make her? Imani gritted her teeth, hating Tyrion Lannister and his skillful play of her.  
She raised the scroll to the flickering fire of one of the candles beside her and destroyed the message before she picked up the next scroll, there was no symbol decorating the simple wax. Yanking it open her eyes read-

_Princess Imani Xe, of Isle Omboru,_

_To my knowledge the dog isn’t aware of his pup, nor is any bystander per your request. Work as sworn sword and shield is deadly enough, and in_

_these dangerous times of war and the knowledge of a child across the sea could be a distraction, I understand I do. I will continue to tug on silk_

_strings to keep things silent regarding her. If anything happens to your dog I will inform you, knowing that when the time comes the panthers will_

_back the coming red dragon. Look for little birds._

There was no signature, but she already knew who it was from, and much like the previous letter she burnt this one as well. In a slight daze, she watched as the fire consumed the parchment.

It had been so long, yet she burned for him, yearned to see him...if only for a moment. Questions like splinters dug into her, confused her, drove her just shy of tears every day when she thought of him, every day when she looked down at their child.

_“I don’t want anything to do with you."_

Had it meant those cruel words? The pondering of that very thing bit at her relentlessly.

Her thoughts ventured back, far back to her own lady mother; Sauda with the feathers in her brown hair. Imani remembered her through the dew of time. She had only been seven her mother died, but she had been the person that first kindled her interest in that called Westeros. Before her departure from the world, she had told her fragments of things that she had picked up on her travels from Westeros to Essos to even Asshai By The Shadow. Imani had ignored her mother’s influence since leaving him but with the idea that King’s Landing could fall with him there, if the city was sacked she knew that his head would sit on a spike next to the King that he served.

Imani had to see him even though the only way she knew of was with the light that had relit itself just as the bleeding star had made itself known in the blue sky -- to tamper with fire and blood. 

* * *

  
The morning lit hallway of the Red Keep was yellow and dim orange. Sandor narrowed his eyes, the light in the corridor not making his headache any better. He could taste the stale vomit in his mouth from the previous night's drinking binge. The red wine induced blackout had produced a dream that he was sure had involved his lost love as well as the Stark girl. Much his annoyance he couldn't recollect most of the details of it although, he was sure that his mind had conjured the image of Sansa crying in Imani’s brown arms as she shed her own Summer Sea salty tears. One dark, one pale, but both with wet matted lashes. The dream version of Imani had looked up at him, and her full lips, which he yearned to kiss moved yet her sweet voice didn’t come out.

  
The recalling of his dream was interrupted when he heard sobbing from an open chamber door. Narrowing his shadowy eyes, he realized that it was coming from Sansa Starks quarters. He slowly stalked closer to the sound, luring like a beast before his sight peered in past the threshold. The poor bird was crying - in utter hysterics as she tried to lift the mattress to her wooden frame bed. His lips almost moved to ask her what she was doing, but he stopped when he saw the red blood stain on the bed. Heat flooded his face when he realized that Lady Sansa Stark had flowered, the sight of the bright red blood caused his mind to trip and slip back to that night when he, as the faint summer darling had put ‘Laid with the Flower’. In the flashes of flashes, he remembered how she had plucked at her brightly tan palm.

  
_“I’ve never done this,”_

  
Before that night he didn’t think that Imani Xe had it in her to be the bashful lady, but she had stood there dressed in red, matching the blooming between her thighs, her black eyes avoiding his. How sweet she had been, saying how much she didn’t want to get blood on his linens. He remembered her laying there naked, after he finally got out of her dress, her hand between her thighs, scared for him to look asking if what they were about to do was against the laws his Gods.

  
“ _Only one of The Seven is true.”_

_“The Stranger.”_

_“Aye, my lady. The Stranger is death and the unknown... We will all meet death one day._

  
And then she had pulled her brown thighs apart, showing herself to him as if a virgin being looked on for the very first time by her husband. He remembered how Imani's inner thighs were tinged red, yet he felt no hint of disgust for the sight. Finding her almost dangerously, painfully tempting to him at that moment. With her crimson fingertips and black eyes that seemed to reach into him, Imani's now far away lips uttered. 

_“Valar Morghulis.”_

  
In that shivering moment, it was as if Sandor’s senses could recall that night in agonizing detail. The smell of her all, fruits, and daydreams, mixed with the slight metallic sting of her spicy blood and the gloom of his dark chambers. The sight of her, mouth open eyes closed, dark skin misted with sweat. Her fragmented pants, and moans. Even the feeling of her, under him...around him. It all brimmed over flooded his thoughts at once as the stood there watching the pale, poor Lady Stark try to hide the death of her childhood. She looked up at him, her light teared eyes widening from fear. Her weak hands let the mattress go and she only stood there shaking her head.  
The Hound leered at her before taking a step into her chambers, is usual cruelty surfacing once again, only momentarily stunned by the thoughts of his obsidian paramour. Sansa looked away, not able to face him and his burns. Her reaction made him flicker with pain, all pretty women refused to meet his eyes, scared of the horrible burns on the side of his face.

“No use trying to hide that,” he said, and Sansa trembled with tears before she sat down. The back bottom of her dress gown red with crimson as well, as if the nightmare she had been living in King’s Landing couldn’t get any worse she would now be forced to marry Joffrey and birth his children. 

“Please! Please, Ser!” She had called him a knight _again_ and he seethed with hate at the title. “Please don’t tell the queen!” Sansa begged her light complexion crimson and swollen with wet tears. He saw the fear in her delicate, girlish face. There was a sharp horror in her eyes and she seemed even more scared at that moment then she had previously all the times Joffrey had tormented her. It was obvious and clear that every time the king put his hands on her, every time that they would lay together it would be rape.

_Do your duty, Dog_

The Hound inside of him growled, so he did just that. Feeling like a pair of black, remote eyes were watching him, judging him in icy disappointment. 

* * *

  
_The Hound was on his back, looking up yet there was nothing around him too see, just blackness - a void going on and on and on. Sandor knew that he wasn’t awake, yet it didn’t seem like any dream he had endured before. Sitting up his hateful narrowed eyes looked in front of him and suddenly there she stood. Her mahogany and silk body only covered with a the pelt of a skinned panther, the eyes of the large cat had been replaced by shimmering golden jewels. Her gentle face was painted, one deep purple line down the center and it seemed that she smeared some from the bottom of her eyes down her face with her fingers. A top her dark head was a crown of purple iridescent flowers shaped like five-pointed stars, unlike any he had ever seen. She was vivid, and crystal clear almost terrifyingly so. Imani stepped towards him slowly, shrugging her bony causing the pelt to fall to the reflective black glassed floor._

_He had dreamt of her countless times before but yet he had never encountered such a dream as this one._

_“Sandor Clegane,” Imani uttered and it felt as if he was hearing her with his ears instead of the usual detachment that came with sleep illusions._

_Everything about her seemed far more real and accurate than he could have ever envisioned with the power of his own mind. Licking his dry lips, his gaze dropped to her right hand to see that it was bleeding. The crimson drops dripping to the reflective ground. As Imani or what seemed to be her crept closer to him, noticed in her night eyes what seemed like two pinpricks of light dancing in them._

_“The fuck is this?” He finally said as Imani circled him, her almost celestial gaze fixed right back at him._

_“You’re dreaming, Clegane.” Whispered Imani as she got to her knees and crawled between his large legs. "Clegane..." she repeated as if finding his username odd on her southern, summer tongue even though she had spoken it hundreds of times. Sandor stared back at her, the light in her eyes less of stardust and more of flames-- odd candle flames._

_“Am I?” he uttered as Imani positively flowed into his craving lap, he felt the palpable heat radiating from between her dark smooth, thighs drawing a moan from the depths of him. A dull ache filled him, just as he had when she had been truly his. He wished to brush his lips against hers while the beast inside of him wanted to her fuck her, ravage her, have her in every which way possible._

_He lifted up to face her but when he did Imani let out a sizzling his from between her perfect gnashed teeth. With her small hand, she grabbed him by his neck and pushed him back down, no longer having the claws of a kitten but rather those of a full-grown panther. The Hound clenched his teeth, knowing that he had killed men for far less than that. Yet, Imani simply stared down at him, black eyes welding with glassy, salty tears. She leaned forward, their faces now only inches apart, and as he inhaled he could smell._

_“I can not decide if I hate you or love you still.” Imani whispered, the heat of her warm breath tickling his lips. “Do you understand how crazy that can make someone?”_

_Sandor leered up at her, as what he knew were angry tears ran down her brown cheeks. “I don’t know if I want to choke you or fuck you.” There was something dark, and dangerous behind that high sunny voice the adored, sending a shiver down his spine. And in the grip of her fingertips that were still at his thick neck he knew that she meant it. Imani darted her tongue out and licked his lips, slowly and he thought he actually die with lust for her._

_He didn’t understand what was happening, but he didn’t need to. A dream? A vision? Reality? The how and why didn’t matter to him, only that Imani Xe was there, straddling his lap, and that he could feel her warmth like the sun. That she was more real than she had been to him in years, since so long ago at the dock when he had shattered her and her cries haunted him. Before Sandor could inhale another lung of breath Imani’s lips crushed against his, practically forcing his mouth apart with her tongue. His horrible male jaws overpowered by her innocent, nubile summer mouth._

_She grabbed his face with her bloodied hand, smearing it crimson. The taste of her spit and the feel of her smooth lips was exactly how he had remembered, yet this odd phantom's kiss was vengeful and he could taste the rage and hurt seeping into the slickness of her saliva. Bucking his hips Sandor groaned as his hard cock pressed against her cunt, praying to whatever god that was listening that he wouldn’t wake up. That he would stay in this place forever with the specter of his dark, distant darling. Imani drew away from his mouth and stared at him her eyes searching his face, her full bottom lip glistening as she slightly smiled. Her blacker than black eyes looking into him, the candle light that danced on the surface was haunting._

_“Stannis is coming, the city might fall, and you…” she paused and shook her head. “...Might die. I will pray for you.”_

_“Wait!” He hissed grabbing her by her hips. The words were swelling his throat, words he should have said yet, his lips had never uttered those words in that heavy, heady order. She tilted her head, the flower crown shifting, now lopsided. The tiny minislule imperfection causing him to feel utterly and grossly sick with warmth for her. And if he had his way he would stare at her until the rivers ran dry._

_Imani's soft lips parted, in an obvious anticipation as she rested her bloody hand to his armored chest, marking above his ruined heart with her small hand print. With a sharp intake of breath, he finally went to speak. “I--” Yet, with the cruelty every single God, before he could even state the first letter of his next word, light in her ebony eyes shivered and then she was gone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing that I think I should explain would be the way Imani is communicating with Sandor Clegane. It is via Glass Candles, which in canon are still a mystery. They stopped working hundreds of years ago with the death of the dragons and the vanishing of magic, with the birth of Dany's dragons they started working again. Seeing as the Xe sisters mother was a scholar it makes sense for her to have owned glass candles. But of course, they didn't work in her lifetime. This probably will never be stated in the main fic but when Dany's dragons hatched Imani saw her mother's glass candles lit themselves. It is never really explained how one uses glass candles, but a good amount of people speculate that with the fire you need blood. Hints, Imani's bleeding hand. 
> 
> Also, there isn't any smut because I think that is something that would require a crazy amount of arcane knowledge to pull off an Imani is nowhere near competent in magic to pull that off.


	21. Chapter 21

  
_“Stannis is coming, the city might fall, and you…"_

The separated by space and time words of Imani Xe rattled through his dark thoughts over and over again as if some type of impish mental torture.

_“...Might die. I will pray for you.”_

Sandor would have thought that whole odd occurrences had been nothing more than another drunken blackout, yet the cold sweat and the chills he woke up with spoke of something else, something far more insidious. Had she really seen him through some type of arcane craft? Would she really pray him? He wanted to think so, the image of her with her hands clasped to together and eyes closed, begging in her native tongue to her gods to protect him was a sweet thing to imagine. That even after he hurt her so, that she might still care for him...just an idea was worth clinging to.

Yet, with dry mouthed bitterness Sandor knew that his questions would possibly go unanswered for the threat that dream Imani had spoke of with the light in her eyes was coming. Stannis of the House Baratheon, would arrive at any given moment and just as she had whispered like smoke the city could fall. The kingdom could be taken and he could very well meet the Stranger at the hands of one of the Fire Stags men. Yet, deadly hounds buried all worries and dread like bones.

* * *

  
With a hateful scowl, The Hound stepped into the lowly lit brothel that was full of Lannister soldiers. All of them attempting to have a stiff drink or maybe pay for a quick fuck because their deaths could very well be sailing tonight. They had all been laughing right before he walked in, and as soon as they saw him the cheer vanished from the room and their eyes followed him with what he knew was intimidation.

The brother of The Mountain.The Kings Sworn Shield, the infamous Hound. His horrible glare landed on a whore, she a pretty thing, with black of hair, a golden cuff decorating her upper arm. She looked Dornish to him, with that olive- tan complexion and strong features but the shape of her body was what gathered his dark attentions and starving glare. Frail shouldered, thin limbed, the hills of her collar bones visible and the almost identically shaped breast that Imani had. He swallowed deeply remembering how she would moan and whimper when he licked her dark nipples. How she would arch her back, and breathe his name.

_"Sandor--ahh--"_

His eyes lingered a bit too long, and the man that had obviously paid for the whores company spoke up.

"Welcome, friends," Bronn the sellsword said. At the sound of his voice, Sandor curled his lip and sneered as he sat down. He couldn't stand the new Commander of The City Watch, a title that was given to the sellsword by his friend the Imp and hand of The King, Tyrion Lannister.

"This rounds on me."

Sandor spoke not a word, only taking a sip of his ale, and glaring at the charming, smirking Bronn. A drink in his hand, a pretty woman on his lap. He was the type of man that Sandor despised, a fake, a liar, and a fraud.

"You think you're a hard man?" The Hound asked darkly.

"Ooh, I know it." Bronn laughed and so did the soldiers around him, but Sandor stared at him coldly and narrowed his eyes, completely unamused. His stare quickly darted to the whore that was still perched on Bronn's lap. Seething with anger and agitation at the fact that she shared those same dark long-lashed eyes that Imani had although that the Summer beauties eyes were far more feline than the whores. And it was then as the woman looked back at him, resting on Bronn's knee did Sandor realize that is sourness was spurred by the slight, green haze of jealousy. The handsome charming, rogue with a woman at his lap, someone to share the time with before Stannis' ships could be seen on the black, velvet horizon.

_“Stannis is coming, the city might fall..."_

Bronn put down his cup and raise his eyebrow at Sandor. "It's warm in here, we've got beautiful women and good brown ale, plenty for everyone. And all you want is to put one of us in the cold ground where there are no women to keep us company." The City Watch Commander spoke with that same puckish charisma that made Sandor sneer with loathing. They were all looking at him as if he was the only monster, yet Bronn and all the men surrounding him were just the same as him. Killers.

"Aye, there's women in the ground, I put some there myself..." He had, and that was something that dear, dear, Imani didn't know. Would she have loved him still if she did? Clenching his jaw Sandor forced the thought from his mind. "So have you," he added, staring right handsome Bronn. The lowborn sellsword with the title he didn't deserve raised his eyebrows at Sandor's words as if bothered by the mention of his past transgressions or even more that Sandor saw through him and all of his lady attracting appeal.

"You like fucking and drinking and singing...." Sandor said lowly, "but killing..." he paused. "Killings the thing you love," The Hound told the lot of them, deeply aware that he was trying to convince his own self of the same thing. That The Hound came first, and that murder and violence as above all...even her.

"You're just like me," he growled before he stood up, "Only smaller." The Hound stepped towards Bronn, the cold, brutal, bloodthirsty side of him looking to validate his words.  
He didn't love her, he couldn't. His only true lover was murder.

"And faster," Bronn smirked, in an attempt to lighten the mood but failed. The Hound stared down at him and a cruel smile came to his lips.

"Your lord imp is going to miss you." Sandor put his hand on his sword, and the soldiers all looked up at him, and there was utter silence in the warm lit brothel. Letting out a sigh Bronn tapped the whores behind and she got off of his lap. Sandor's eyes lowered at the sight of her flat stomach and hip bones visible under her skin. Hearing Imani's impossible giggles in his head, as he recollected racking his teeth down her dark, smooth abdomen before his lips found their place between her thighs. Titters transforming into desperate moans. Silently he cursed her for sparking through his conscious.

"Alright..." Bronn stood up to face the hateful Hound. "I expect he will someday." They stared each other down, and Sandor wanted nothing more than to put his sword through his gut but before any weapon could be drawn the bells rung...The Fiery Stag had arrived.

_"...you might die."_

* * *

  
King Joffrey was incompetent when it came to warfare and battle and if he had been at the helm the city would have been taken as soon as Stannis' men set foot on shore. Yet, most of the stags fleet had been almost utterly decimated by Tyrion Lannister's plan, "The Substance", pyromancer's piss, Wildfire. Sandor watched in horrified awe when one, single flaming arrow dropping into the Blackwater and caused the whole river to ignite into a massive, brilliant, explosion of green flames. The sight was one of terrifying things he had ever seen, but he choked back his fear. Sandor Cleagene feared fire, The Hound did not.

The Wildfire hadn't killed Stannis and they could see that even with most of his fleet burned alive he still had plenty of men to make shore. There would still be a fight for the city and for the Iron Throne. The Hound pulled put his longsword as he lead the party to stop Stannis' men from passing the Kings Gate.  
"If any man dies with a clean sword, I'll rape his fucking corpse!" He screamed to the soldiers. None of the men that he currently led were even a half of the killer that he was. With one swing of his sword, the same sword that Imani's full lips had kissed tongue had grazed so long ago he used to cut clean through a man, dropping his guts to the dirt.

_“I hear that it’s good luck to have a lady kiss your sword...."_

Sandor's blade cut through another soldiers neck, lopping his head off. Gritting his teeth, his face splattered with blood, salty sweat beading at his brow. He was simply the Hound, the murderer, the killer, the formidable monster. No man with an axe, arrow or sword could even come close to touching him, and all who tried died. There was a clap of thunder and it started to rain, turning the dirt to slick mud. He licked his lips and his shadowy eyes glanced up over the chaotic movement of the soldiers who beat and killed each other in the mud outside of the city wall. The metallic smell of blood hung thick, in the muggy air. And as if called from his nightmares, running right towards him was a Baratheon, soldier screaming while a lit by orange flames.

The fire roared off of the man, as he charged towards him Sandor froze in panic. Thoughts going back, far back to when his brother pressed his face to the flames. The smell, the burning sick, stink of roasting raw flesh, the utter agony as his face melted. His eyes widened as the burning man raised his sword and screamed. He couldn't move - frozen in fear like a child. He was going to die, he was sure of it, sure that Summer prayers couldn't save him now. With a yell, the sword was _almost_ swung, but suddenly the burning man was shot through the head with an arrow and fell to Sandor's feet in flaming heap. Sandor blinked and stumbled backward mouth agape in shock before he looked up to see Bronn as he lowered his bow and gave him a smirk and nod.

Everything was fire and death as he franticly looked around, half of his men were dead, they were going to lose, and if he stayed there he would die too. Sandor's brain struggled with the idea of death and it wasn't the worry for his own life that pushed him back through the gates doors, it was a culmination of things. The fear of still burning Blackwater, the fact that if he died he would fall for a city that had done nothing for him and for a king that he truly hated.

_“Yo-you hate this place, you hate the Lannisters, you--you hate Prince Joffrey. Ye-yet you hurt me….”_

The teary-eyed, memory slithered in his mind. She had been right, she had always been right. Imani had known him, she had seen him. Through the pain, the steel and the vulgarity her black eyes had been the only ones to peer into his ruined soul and he had tried to kill the memory of her. Murder in his mind, after he hurt her after he pushed her away. He could die there, choking on his own blood and if he did he knew that his last thoughts would be of her and regret.

"Fuck." Sandor uttered, the simple harsh profanity summing up his state of mind.

"Can I get you some iced milk or a bowl of nice raspberries?!" Tyrion hissed when he saw The Hound retreating back through the city walls.

Sandor pointed his long sword at him and with a shake of his head he uttered, "Eat shit, dwarf."

"You're on the wrong side of the wall."

"I lost half my men..." Sandor slowly looked at the imp and swallowed. "...The Blackwater is on fire..."

"Dog, I command you to go back out there and fight!" King Joffrey screamed, pointing his thin, pale finger back at the gate as if ordering a slave. Sandor lowered his head, blood, sweat and rain water dripping down his face.

_"No, your name is Sandor Clegane."_

Imani's phantom voice whispered sweetly to him from hazy memory. The strings of self-hate that had bonded him to that place, the sad idea that he was made only to serve, that he was only worth what he had and deserved nothing else. Those binding ties had been sliced away all at once and he lowered his brow and gnashed his teeth.

"You're Kingsgaurd, Clegane. We must beat them back or they will take this city." Tyrion urged, knowing that they needed The Hound and all of his brutality if they had any hope of stopping Stannis. "Your kings city."

Sandor paused, imagining Imani. First only her black eyes, reflecting that single pinprick of firefly light, then the rest of her perfect face. Dark skin as if she had caught the night sky, dimly pink, full lips which he once bruised with passion. The long dark neck which his horrible mouth had the blessing of kissing, the delicate shoulders, raised collar bones. He could visualize her shaking her head, so emphatically that her black braids swayed with the movement.

_"Are you a slave? Do you have masters?"_

"Fuck the Kingsgarud," he uttered, and Tyrion blinked in shock. "Fuck the city." Sandor looked up and stared right at the little monster named Joffrey Baratheon and said with all of the hate that he hid for him. "Fuck the king."

Joffrey and Tyrion said nothing, only staring at him in shock as he stormed off and even though the words he had just spat were treasonous no one dared to stop him.

* * *

  
Sansa ran into her chambers and did exactly what her handmaiden, Shae had told her to do. She went straight there and bolted her door. She had escaped Maegor's Holdfast where the other high ladies were being held for 'protection'. Ser Ilyn Payne had been there to watch over the ladies and children in had orders to make sure that if Stannis took the city to kill them. For they, would not be his spoils of war and wouldn't be taken alive. Sansa would much rather face Stannis, for he was far less likely to murder the wives and children of his enemies while the Lannister's would kill their own so they didn't have to bend the knee to the Burning Stag. Her pale hands shook, as she walked over to her vanity and looked at herself. Her face was completely ashen with fear, yet a part of her hoped that Stannis would win, no one could be a worse king than Joffrey.

A deep part of her wanted to see his head rotting on the same spike that he had placed her father's, she wanted that revenge, that dark satisfaction to know that King Joffrey Baratheon the First of His Name and would have to pay for his crimes and would be held accountable for the horrible things he did once the met the gods, old or new. Glancing down, her icy blue eyes saw the doll that her father had given her after they had arrived at King's Landing. Sansa picked it up and stared down at it. She hadn't appreciated the gift when he had given it to her, with a stinging, pain she remembered how much of a brat she had been. With narrowed lips, she felt warm tears threaten to fall. Sansa would have given anything, her sight, her limbs her own life to be in her father's arms once more. for just a moment. She gripped the doll, about to crumble with tears at the thought of him when she heard someone's deep, gravelly voice from the corner of her chambers.

"The lady is starting to panic."

Sansa spun around and her watery eyes widened when she saw the Hound sitting there. The mangled side of his face caught the orange glow of the candle light and he didn't look at her, his eyes staring blankly at the wall. He was soaking wet with rainwater, and Sansa saw the crimson slick of blood on gloves. There was something about him that was different to her somehow, he seemed less horrifying and even her young mind picked up on the fact that there was a hint of fear in him.

"What are doing here?" Sansa asked, her voice cracking. She was alone, all alone with The Hound, should she be scared? If he wanted he could do horrible things to her.

"Not here for long," he uttered with a sort of sigh, "I'm going."

"Where?" Sansa asked quickly, unsure of why she should care where the dog went, yet she did. For all is his horror, he had shown her more kindness than most, even though his actions were veiled under a thick, hard layer of hatefulness. Sandor swallowed, still not meeting her winter blue gaze. He was still struggling with the reasons behind of why he came to the ladies chambers in the first place. He could have been long gone by now, yet he was compelled to come there first. Vivid memories of another Xe coming to him, that dark wide-eyed girl child that would have been in the Stark girls place if things had been different. Little Lady Asha could have been the one that suffered the king, could have been the one that cried herself to sleep, could have been the one there scared for her life as Stannis attempted sacked the city. 

"North might be, could be..." Sandor spoke, finally looking at the red haired beauty, although his long-term destination lay much further south.

"What about the king?"

"He can die just fine on his own," he lowered his head and the looked back at the girl that reminded him of the woman that he cared for so much even though their faces were nothing alike. "I could take you with me, take you to Winterfell," Sandor told her, and Sansa blinked in surprise still clenching the doll from her father. He stood up and walked over to her, "I'll keep you safe."

It was no lie, he truly would protect the Little Bird, and his offer wasn't born out of impure thoughts. She was young, beautiful and nubile and yet, the idea of taking her for himself was not the reason behind his words. Much more than knights could truly say. The same part of him that wanted to protect the little Xe from the monstrous claws of the boy lion, the same part of him that was forced to send the only woman that had ever loved him way to shield her from his brothers promise...that part of him, not the bloody and foaming muzzle The Hound, but the honest, kind, good part of Sandor Clegane wanted the Little Bird to be safe. No one deserved to suffer like she had, no one deserved to cry day in and day out like she did. Someone as innocent and sweet deserved a chance if happiness and King's Landing could never give her that. "Do you want to go home?"

Sansa looked up at him, her pretty blue eyes were not shocked anymore, yet now blinking, not with fear but rather confusion and confliction. If she stayed, and the city fell Stannis would spare her life, she knew that. If she stayed and Stannis failed, she would have to suffer her king but she knew he wouldn't kill her even though he would still hurt her. If she left as she honestly wanted to do, right then and there Sansa knew that if they were caught they would be beheaded for sure. Her mind went to her lady mother, Catelyn and what she would do. She would want her to think and be smart, leaving with The Hound could mean freedom, but it could also mean death a price too high to play on a whim.

She couldn't meet Sandor's gaze, too scared to look upon the burns. So she kept her eyes down when she spoke. "I'll be safe here...Stannis won't hurt me."

Sandor clenched his jaw at her words before he stepped towards her quickly causing the girl to flinch.

"Look at me!" He growled, getting right in her face. Sansa trembled and slowly brought her eyes up to his and for the very first time saw the features under the burns. "Stannis is a killer, The Lannister's are killers, your father was killer, your brother is a killer, your sons will be killers someday..." His glare lowered and for a second he admired her body. The curve of her milky neck, her gentle arms, and budding breasts. For a dark second he thought about kidnapping her, he could simply grab the girl and force her to come with him. She would eventually think him once they got out of King's Landing, he knew she was choosing wrong and she would suffer even more for it. Yet,  _she_  floated back into his thoughts.

" _Summer Isle girls are allowed to choose their fates even if the choice they make is wrong."_

Imani had told him, long ago and he recalled her in that palpitating moment in time when she sat in the tub, knees to her chest and eyes like star dust. He didn't understand her or her culture's way of how they treated their daughters but in that moment standing there looking back at the kissed by fire girl he understood. His Little Bird was foolish, yet she had the right to choose and how would he be any better than Joffrey if he took that from her?

Sandor leaned down closer to Sansa's face, feeling the heat of her breath.  
"The world was built by killers...so you better get used to looking at them," he whispered. Sansa's eyes softened and she parted her moist lips, the sudden expression shook him to his core for it was as if the wolf overlapped with the faraway panther. Those same lidded eyes, slightly tilted head, almost welcoming lips. He lowered his brow as he gazed at her, wondering if what he saw in her was truly her intention.

"You won't hurt me," she told him, everything about her in that moment echoed and shook with Imani's still live phantom. He blinked and slowly backed away from her, surprised by her words and how they made him feel.

"No, Little Bird I won't hurt you," Sandor told Sansa Stark before he turned his back to her and left her chambers behind, leaving the winter flower in an attempt to go back, back to the summer feather. The Panther the girl cut from he night sky, Imani Xe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> t.A.Tu's 'All The Things She Said' sums up this chapter lmao. I promise the next chapters are not going to be a rehash of episodes of the show but it would have been very hard to write Blackwater from his pov without using parts from the show. I wanted to give his actions some backstory and how they pertained to Imani so....yeah. 
> 
> Oh, and yes Arya Stark will be in this fic. :D


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Might have a few typos, will re-edit in the morning.

The wooden crate was dropped down on the ornate mosaic palace floor, with a loud smack. The brightly clothed guards bowed at their seated princess and were ready to pry the box open when she lazily lifted her dark mahogany hand to halt them. The two lead heads of her council, her own sisters glanced at each other quickly. The youngest with raised eyebrows and then the eldest with a shrug of her dark shoulders. Imani slowly lifted herself up of her golden and stone throne.

“This was on a ship that came from the north?” She asked, voice low and her sisters could hear the apprehension in her tone. "And you say it is for me?"

“Yes, princess. The ship sailed from King’s Landing.” One of the guards nodded to their feather covered ruler.

Ekua's eyes glanced over at Imani as she slowly descended the polished steps, her eyes fixed on the crate. “What do you think it is?” Ekua asked and Imani shook her head in trepidation.

“If Stannis hadn’t lost I would think….” Asha whispered, following behind ripping with curiosity, but she silenced herself when Imani shot her a look that was as sharp as a blade.

“Putting severed heads in boxes to sent to people isn’t something that I think Stannis Baratheon would do, now his nephew...that’s another story,” Imani spoke, taking the pry bar out of one of her guard's hands. “And anyway there is only two people in Westeros that know about us…”

Asha was about to ask ‘who?' but with a thrust of her arms Imani jabbed the pry bar into the top of the crate. The guards offered their help but she only shook her head, her marbled palms slipping across the metal as she scuffled with the steel nails the secured it shut.  With one final push, the lid gave way and fell to the floor. Imani dropped the pry bar with a loud metallic bang as she looked in. Ekua watched the side of her sister's face as instant tears flooded her eyes and fell from her cheeks as she beat over and reached in, letting out an almost agonizing sigh.

There was a knot in her gut, a mix of sickening nausea and past memories that flooded her as her delicate hands touched the cold steel and lifted it out. In her tan palms, Imani looked back at the metal helmet, his helmet that had the shape of a snarling, vicious hound. Her guards stepped forward to catch their ruler, but she fell hard to her knees, clutching the piece of armor as if it were a living part of him.

“Leave us,” Ekua demanded in her regal, yet cut voice to the guards. The two of them both bowed quickly before leaving.

Neither of the sisters spoke for a moment, only watching as Imani rubbed her thumbs over the pointed ears of the helmet and brushed her lips against snout. Eyes closed as if the touch and sensation called back a thought, a memory, a moment and feeling which it all invoked. Casually Asha walked over to the crate, glancing inside and with and interested him she reached in and pulled something else out.

“There’s a scroll.” She said, and Imani's head shut up as Asha broke the wax seal and unrolled the small scroll of parchment.  “Princess Imani Xe, of Isle Omboru, your dog has fled from the Battle at the Blackwater with treason on his lips. To my knowledge, there is a bounty on his head, yet I wouldn't worry. We all know how your dog is. I sent you a gift, it is a rather lovely piece of armor and the only person that cares for him should have it. If I hear anything else I will send word as long as when the time comes the panthers will back the coming red dragon. Look for little birds.” Asha read and Ekua looked down at Imani as she still held onto Sandor’s helmet. She smiled and then sighed, she had thought the worst of his fate.

“Could you imagine the dramatics if she had received word that was dead?” Ekua asked her youngest sister, with a bitter and annoyed tone of voice. “Not a better ruler does our sister make, yet when it comes to matters of the heart she behaves like a girl instead of a woman,” she added as if Imani wasn't right there, and could hear every word she said.

“Oh please, he might be the best person, but he is not that bad. He was so kind to me back then.” Asha spoke, surprising both of her sisters at her kind words regarding Sandor but Imani didn't speak, only listening to her sisters words as she caressed his helmet. “ If I had become queen I’m sure The Hound would have protected me from all Joffrey’s monstrosities,” Asha added sounding far older than the fifteen-year-old that she was.  With a slight shrug, Asha turned and left the throne room. Imani sniffled, slowly raising to her feet as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

“He left King’s Landing, he left his king...maybe he’s trying to get to me,” Imani whispered, her voice holding all of the foolish promises in the world. Ekua stared at her, her sister, the mother of her niece and their ruler, yet behind all of those titles was a woman who was in the deepest darkest pits of love. Not the kind of sunny skies and whisperers but the kind of love that tragedies were written about, the kind that left people in tears, bloody and suffering. The foolish kind of fancy that made her think that a man who said that he didn’t want anything do with her anymore would suddenly show up. Ekua could never understand what kind of spell he put on her, what disgusting, vile words he had he whispered in her ear to cause to still howl for him.

“I don’t know what I would do if he showed up here,” She muttered clenching his helmet. The low lidded look on her pretty face spoke of danger, a promise that her words were honest.

“Well, dear sister it would be interesting to find out,” Ekua told her before she too left her sister alone in the sandstone throne room. In the bright high Summer Isle light, Imani rubbed her thumbs over the cold steel as she leered down at the snarling face of his beastly persona. Slowly, Imani lifted the helmet and slipped it on, obscuring her vision seeing thought his sight.

* * *

 

_The Keep was dark, silent, sleeping and Imani Xe thought she was the only awake. Her stomach had rumbled her out of her dreams and demanded to be fed. So she had slipped her gown back on and snuck from her chambers to raid the palace kitchen. To her delight, she found lemon cakes and took as many as her delicate, greedy hands could hold. Unknown to the brown flower someone else lurking down the halls as well._

_He had been at a brothel drinking as usual, yet this time as he walked back to his chambers his blood was up. His heart still pumping from the fight he had got into. A fight that had started all because he overheard some young knight talking loudly about highborn girls that he wanted to ‘give his sword to’  such conversation was normal until the knight made the mistake of bringing up the name ‘Xe’. Saying ‘I wonder what color those summer cunts are.’ Hearing that, Sandor, turned and stared at the young knight, who noticed his dark glare and then stupidly cut ‘You should put that helmet on to cover your ugly face.’ The brothel had dropped into silence at the knight's words, and it was clear he didn’t know who he was talking to. So, The Hound put on his helmet as requested, and then silenced the knight with his large first, breaking the young man's face with one punch. The Hound left him there on the floor of the brothel spitting out his teeth, broken nose, shattered eye socket._

_Behind the mouth of his dog headed shaped helmet Sandor smirked to himself, still recalling how satisfying it felt to feel his hand break the bones of that knight’s ‘handsome’ face. Suddenly, he lifted his head when he heard a musical chiming of bangles anklets and instantly knew who it was. A his lips curled into dark, devious smirk as he glanced up hearing the sound get closer and closer. With a throated growl, and a lick of his lips he closed the snarling mouth of his helmet before he lurked through the darkness towards the sound._

_Imani hummed as she licked her sticky fingers and hummed at the sweet, lemon taste as she dreamily moseyed down the dim hallway. She happily smacked her lips before the sudden shock of being grabbed from behind caused her heart to jump into her throat. The lemon cakes fell to the floor and Imani almost screamed, but his large gloved hand covered her mouth. Kicking her legs, Imani wriggled and grumbled against the worn leather that was pressed against her lips._

_“May, may look what I found. Pretty ladies shouldn’t be wandering about at all hours of the night.” Sandor growled, his voice sounding far deeper and dangerous due to the metal of the helmet that he spoke through. Imani’s hips wiggled against him as he pulled her backward into a dark alcove. “Who knows what kind of degenerates she might meet,” he turned her around and pushed her back against the stone wall. Imani stared up at snarling vicious, dog face of his helmet, the yellow dim light of the hallway casting off of the steel in a way that made it seem even more terrifying._

_“Sandor,” Imani whispered, her words breathy as he grabbed her hips and pressed himself against her, his growing hardon poking at her belly._

_“Where are you going at this hour?”_

_“I--I went and got something to eat.”_

_His obscured face was unsettling to her. Sandor pulled off one of his gloves and slipped his hand under her dress._

_“You shouldn’t be walking about this late, my lady.” Sandor hissed, as he rubbed his fingers through the black hair at the apex of her thighs. “Now, look what you’ve got yourself into.” He bent down, the snout of his helmet rubbing against the side of her face as his fingertips pressed against sensitive nub that she loved to have touched._

_“Take your helmet off…” Imani moaned as he slipped his fingers inside of her twat, but her request was met with a wicked chuckle._

_“No.” Sandor said simply as he started to finger her roughly. She grabbed on to his wrist for balance as she almost cried out but bit her lip instead._

_“But--but I wish to kiss you,” she purred as she turned her head and licked along one of the curved fangs. The action of her sweet, moist mouth against his terrifying dog helmet filled him with a hot pool of lust, even more than he had for her already. Innocent summer lips, against the muzzle of a beast. He yanked his wet fingers out of her and quickly undid the laces of his trousers, pulling his throbbing cock free. Yanking the straps of her gown down, and the bottom of her skirt up he exposed her flesh. His hidden horrible glare ogling her before he grabbed her up by her thighs, holding her up off of the ground as if she weighed nothing as he lowered her cunt onto his rock hard cock. Imani groaned as he stretched her tight wet cunt and wrapped her arms around his neck and panted against the shoulder plates of his armor. Sandor rasped out a harsh groan as he worked her up and down on his rod. His hands gripping at her supple brown thighs, and if she had been any lighter he would have left behind lustful bruises, yet her dark skin was good at keeping all of their secrets. The bangles at her ankles chimed each time he forced her cunt down on his cock. He was hot, sweating, and panting, but he didn’t care, all he cared about was how good she felt around him._

_“Ah--you like that?”_

_“Ayee--more, more!” She purred, her hot breath causing condensation to grow on the cold steel of his armor._

_“You're so fucking greedy.” Sandor chuckled from behind his helmet._

_“Harder.” Imani hissed, in that certain tone that only high ladies had. In moments of passion, she proved to be a demanding little lassie, yet even though his blood was up and his mind swam due to ale he still knew he couldn’t get carried away._

_“No.” He moaned simply._

_She was like glass to his brutish strength and one ill-placed grip could break one of her delicate bones, and one thrust too deep could seriously harm her. It was the only time that he cursed his strength. Imani whimpered, in slight disappointment, but she still adored every thrust of his hips, and how the head of his cock hit against the sensitive hidden spot inside of her._

_“Gods!” Imani yelped, her hands grabbing at the back of his helmet. “I wish y--you could fill me with your cum." She moaned wanting to feel him throb and pump himself inside of her._

_“Fuck- don’t fucking say things like that--ah--while I'm in you!” Sandor groaned, feeling his cock tremble at the idea. He knew she was just talking out of passion but he every part of him wanted that as well, but he was sure she didn’t want him to put a bastard in her belly._

_Biting her lip, Imani started to feel the pressure build in her core._

_“Oh--Sandor--Sandor--Sandor,” she whispered her eyes rolling in the back of her head as every muscle in her body clenched she cried out something he didn’t understand in her flowery native tongue as she quivered and shook around him. He quickly pulled her off of him and sat placed her back on her feet. knowing if he stayed inside of her he would end up giving her what she had asked for. Imani stumbled, barely able to stand, her body still tingling and glowing with pleasure. Sandor grabbed his cock in his fist and stroked himself quickly moaning in surprise and delight when Imani got to her knees in front of him and opened her mouth as she wiggled her hips._

_“Open your helmet. I want to see your face when you finish.” She purred, and he did, dropping down the lower jaw of the beast's mouth. Clenching his jaw Sandor grabbed Imani by the back of her head to hold her in place._

_“Ahhh--Seven Hells!” He hissed as he finished. Imani smiled watching as he snarled and gnashed his teeth. She let out a giggle as most of his seed missed her mouth and hit her in the face. Sandor looked down at her, her pretty face a mess with his white warm cum, a bit of it even in her hair but Imani didn’t seem to mind, wearing a wickedly satisfied expression as she scooped some off of her chin and into her mouth. He stared down at her, oddly charmed by how she looked at that moment.  Imani hummed in surprise as he gently wiped her face with a rag that he had. Blinking she looked up at him, taken aback by the tenderness in his eyes at that moment, as he dabbed away his seed from her lips._

_“Thank you,” Imani whispered, as he pulled his hand away and then re-laced his trousers. Sandor grabbed her by her delicate wrist and forced her to her feet before he picked her up into his large armored arms. “Where are we going?”_

_Sandor chuckled darkly as he looked down at the pretty woman in his arms as he walked down the all._

_“I’m talking you back to my chambers.”_

_“Hummmm. And may I ask why, Clegane?” She purred._

_“Because I didn’t say I was done with you yet._

* * *

 

There had been a plan, not a very well thought out one but still a scheme none the less. The distant glowing goal, the Summer Isles lay across from the edge Dorne. The fastest way was out of the question, Sandor had fled the Battle at the Blackwater, he committed treason with his actions and words and he couldn’t simply board a ship out of the bay. To go on horseback all the way through from King’s Landing  to one of the Dornish ports would have been a dangerous trip and a long one at that. If he wasn’t captured by those still loyal to the boy king that he had said 'Fuck you' to the land and lack of food just might kill him.

So, to go south to that paradise he had envisioned in his mind countless times, Sandor went north. The Vale was staying out of the war, and he knew that if he could reach the major port city of Gull Town in The Vale he could cross the Narrow Sea and be far removed from the bounty on his head and then the could make his way south. It was an expensive endeavor one that he realized was stupid from the start, but he was compelled by the flashes of her that insisted behind his eyelids a he slept. The simplest of things that she had done so long ago, how he had observed her once in the gardens at the Red Keep, talking with her sisters as she held on to the sides of her silken gown and with the movement of a girl child she swayed back and forth, causing the purple silk to flutter and sway. Her dark face pointing up to the sun like a daisy, her black cashmere braids slightly catching the light. How such mundane thoughts forced him to try to reach her. What good dogs would do to get back to those that care for them. Yet, nothing was going how he thought it would.

First, he had got himself kidnapped by the Brotherhood Without Banners, something that only happened because he had foolishly had drank himself until he passed out and had been awoken from his dream of Imani _and_ Sansa by getting ambushed. Sadly he couldn’t recall most of the dream, only parts, a brown thigh, a milky white neck, and how black braids and red locks had been intertwined. With the Brotherhood, he had found the ‘ _other_ ’ Stark daughter, Arya. He thought she had been long dead seeing as no one had seen the girl since Joffrey had her father beheaded.

They had said that they were uploading the realm and put him on ‘trial’ for his crimes against said realm. He’s opponent had been Beric Dondarrion who had been sent out by the late by Eddard Stark to lead a party of men to apprehend his own brother, Gregor for his crimes he had committed against the Riverlands right before the War of The Five Kings had sparked. Beric had found a new God, a dark one from the east, R'hllor. They wanted to blame his brothers crimes on him, blame him for the murder of the Targaryen children on him say that he was a rapist aswell. He had done **_horrible_** things, but not that. If the Stark girl hadn't’ spoken up they might have let him go, but she told them all how he killed her friend, a boy of twelve named Mycah. Yes, he had done it, he had ran down that boy who was with her when her Direwolf had a attacked Prince Joffrey when they were on the King’s Road on their way from Winterfell to King’s Landing. Sandor didn’t deny it, it hadn't been his place to question a princes.

They all chanted the words ' _for the night is dark and full of terrors’_ and Dondarrion’s sword caught fire when he cut his hand with it. Sandor fought him even though he flinched in fear at the flaming sword. He could not die here, he refused. And with a swing of his own blade he watched as he sliced through Dondarrion’s shoulder and he died...but then like nothing he had ever seen before in his horrible life Dondarrion got back up. Maybe there was something to that god called R’hllor after all. He had won his freedom so to their word they let him go and he was free once again to pursue his goal of that that golden isle yet now, he had a new plan one involving that little Stark who had to be worth her tiny weight in ransomed gold. Shiny, yellow gold that could get him to _her_.

Kidnapping one girl to get to another, only the most twisted, and hopeless would come to such a conclusion and think of it as gallant. Yet, he would do simply anything to touch that woman that haunted him with her dark eyes, moist lips invading his mind with the sound of her voice whispering his name over and over again like a hymn...

And Sandor knew that the thoughts of that brown, sun colored beauty would either be his salvation or his death.

 


	23. Chapter 23

Her cedar chest sat open, the heavy chamber door was closed and bolted. Dusk light of the capital filled the room and caught the redness in Sansa Starks hair, that Tully hair like her lady mother. Her light eyes Northerner eyes stared down at the dirty white cloak that she had pulled out of her chest, the cloak once belonging to The Hound. The same one he had draped her in, when Joffrey had ordered Ser Meryn Trant to rip her gown off of her in front of the whole court. The dingy fabric being the only thing to shield her body from horrible eyes.

The Hound had been on her mind ever since he walked out of her chambers that night while Stannis tried to take the city. She kept thinking about that moment when he offered to take her north, back to home to Winterfell.

"I wonder where he is...." Sansa whispered to herself, as she stared down at his dirty cloak. Had he really gone north? Across the narrow sea? Or maybe, south as south could go. Sansa bit her lip, closed her eyes and felt an odd indescribable heat fill her soft cheeks as she thought back...

* * *

_There was a tinge of fear that filled Sansa with the  stone wall at her back as he leered down at her as they stood in the lonely hallway. He had cornered her, and instantly she knew that he was drunk by the glassy look of his shadowy eyes and the thick smell of wine wafting off of him._

_"S--" Sansa caught herself before she called him 'Ser' but quickly stopped, knowing how much he hated that word. "S-Sandor?" Sansa finally squeaked out, slightly trembling as he glanced her up and down with a far off and dazed expression. He parted his lips and the words that came out shocked her._

_"I--I--had a woman once," he drunkenly rasped, his eyes darting from her red hair to the gentle freckles on the bridge of her nose. Sansa didn't speak, but her lips did slightly part and quiver, not sure what she should say to him. Sandor clenched his jaw and then narrowed his eyes. "She was a pretty little star-gazer...like you."_

_There was a sudden flutter in her belly, and her heart picked up pace filling her cheeks with a crimson blush. The idea of him with a woman was oddly surprising to her, and even more that he in his drunken state was telling her about it. Images of brunettes, blondes, and redheads like her filled her mind as possible candidates of his dark affections. Sansa swallowed at his closeness, struggling to look up at him, but she couldn't dare to make eye contact._

_"Not once did she call me a fucking dog," he slurred, shifting from foot to foot before he leaned closer to her.  Sansa closed her eyes, sure he was going to touch her, yet he did not only continuing to mumble about whatever lady ghost of his past.  He was so close that she could his body heat, and she trembled but not from fear, something else something different and confusing._

_"Eyes of onyx and skin like night...." Sandor whispered and the gentleness of his words and what he spoke bewildered her. Had a Sandy_ Dornishwoman _been the one to tame the dog for a short time? Or had she been from across a salty sea? Dressed in bright feathers and gold, with full lips and an accented voiced. A summer girl, as far away from winter, snow and chill as she could have been. Sansa watched as a flicker of pain came across Sandor's usually hateful face, as he slowly shook his head, so close to her that she could feel the heat of his breath at the side of her face._

_"My girl sung lots of songs, but in the end she knew nothing..." His tone prickling with agonizing bitterness. Before Sansa could stop herself curious words slipped from her lips, delivering a question anyone would have asked._

_"Wha--what happened to her?"_

_His dazed expression gave nothing away, yet instantly as soon as the pained look came it was gone replaced with his usual antipathy._

_"What if I told you I choked the life out of her? Hum?" Sandor hissed as he grabbed her arm tightly causing winced. His grip wasn't painful, but it had startled her. "What if I told you that?"_

_Sansa shook her hear head and sniffled, she knew that she didn't know many things, but she knew that his words were lies._

_"You didn't," she whispered._

_"How do you know, you silly girl? I could have snapped her pretty neck, a neck as pretty as yours." The Hound rasped. Sansa could feel his rage, the pain and something like regret that came with this woman._

_"No.... " Sansa shook her head. "Men don't talk about women they've killed like that." She looked up at him, unknowing to her own youthful ignorance she gave him a glance, a knowing, perceptive look. A flicker of eyes that understood something, not because of prior knowledge but rather out of intuition.  She barely knew anything about boys of her own age, yet at that moment she could read a man._

_"The fuck do you know about anything?" The Hound hissed as he backed way from her, and then avoided her icy eyes._

_"Did your lady die?" She had to ask if so he made sense to her. A burned man who tasted love once lost it to tragedy and now he detests everything. The makings of sad songs and even sadder poems were things she could understand.  Sandor let out a mocking, cold laugh at her words as he turned way from her. Yet, under his snicker was the faintest of hints of a sob._

_"Worse, Little Bird. She lives." He uttered before he stumbled away from her, leaving her untouched, unharmed with her virtue intact._

* * *

Sandor had wished that his ransomed Stark was the one he left in King's Landing because the younger sister proved to be an utter handful. The night that he snatched her up from the woods had been tiresome, the little wolf had tried her best to fight him off. Almost slipping away when he put her on his horse, she didn't get far but none the less she kept fighting. Sandor was sure that if his arms and hands weren't covered in armor the little beast would have tried to claw and bite him. Arya had called him nasty names and had a vile mouth for a little lady.

After hours upon hours, the little Stark had eventually  worn herself out. And when she did he laid her down so she could rest, but he didn't get any sleep knowing that as soon as she awoke she would be an utter terror once again. And he had been right, for in the morning the wolf-girl had picked up a rather big rock and attempted to bash his head in. Yet, he wasn't stupid and had only been pretending sleep. Sandor gave her the choice, that if she managed to kill him with that rock she would be free of course but if she struck him and lived, he promised to break both of her tiny hands. She knew that he would make good on his words. So, finally Arya Stark gave up.

* * *

In the open night air an owl hooted, over the sound of the cracking, smoking fire. Sandor stared at the girl as she sat across from him, with her knees bent to her chest as she glared at him with eyes like hateful little daggers.

"You haven't eaten since I captured you," he Sandor told her, and the girl only shrugged. "Robb Stark isn't going to pay me for your dead body if you starve." He had told her of his plan, and how her mother and brother, were there at the Twins castle in the Riverlands for a wedding of her uncle Edmure and one of Lord Walder Frey's daughters. Sandor had made it clear that his goal was to take her to her family because he knew they would pay all the gold they had for her. The Twins wasn't far, and they should arrive there in time for the wedding tomorrow night.

"I'm not going to starve in a day, and I'm not hungry." Arya hissed, but as soon as she did they both heard her stomach let out a desperate growl.

"Aye, does your belly know that?" He asked, but she just looked down at her grubby fingernails.

Arya Stark couldn't have been further from her sister. While Sansa was a flower, she was a blade and they didn't have much of resemblance to each other either. Her hair had been longer the last time he had seen her, now it was jaggedly cut, and filthy. She was skinny, pale, plain faced and had the chill of the north in her glassy eyes.

"I killed three rabbits and cooked them, eat some," Sandor ordered.

"I don't want to eat your fucking rabbits." Arya cut, once again her foul mouth catching him off guard.

"Fine then, go to sleep hungry. I don't care," he grunted, as he grabbed up one of the skewered rabbits and started to eat. There was silence for a moment before Arya suddenly spoke, her voice low sounding exhausted.

"Are you really going to get me to my family?"

"Aye, child. I want to be rid of you as soon as possible." He said with his mouth full of meat. There was another beat of silence her belly growled again and she groaned painfully willing to go hungry due to her own stubbornness. With a roll of his eyes he grabbed one of the rabbits, stood up and walked over to her. Instantly, Arya tried to scramble away from his approach, looking wide-eyed with panic. Her reaction made him wonder exactly what she had gone through after she went missing from King's Landing.

"I wouldn't ever touch you, girl," Sandor said, as he handed her the rabbit. Arya narrowed her eyes cautiously at him. This was the same man that had killed her friend, a boy only of twelve years old. She found it hard to believe that he would kill a child, but would never beat and rape a girl. Her time wondering and taught her that everyone was horrible, and everyone lied. Yet, there was something about his expression was true.

"Take the rabbit," he hissed, and Arya slowly reached up and grabbed it from him. "Eat and then go the fuck to sleep, we have a long ride to the Twins at dawn," The Hound ordered of the child, and for the first time she did as he said without an argument.

* * *

_Sandor was lucid, knowing that he was in a dream for sure. The thing that gave it away was the presence of golden sand that covered the floor of the throne room in the Red Keep. Burning yellow sunlight poured in from the top. Sandor looked up and shield his eyes from the light when he looked up, seeing that the top half of the keep had been completely removed. Yet, it wasn't destroyed but was rather as if the stones had been sliced away with a burning blade. He took a step towards the throne, but out of the corner of his eye he saw something run past a figure that hid behind one of the red stone pillers._

_A giggled filled the muggy hot air as he quickly moved toward the sound. There was the obvious sound of a bangle chiming, and he saw a flutter of feathers before Imani's brown figure slipped from the column and stood in front of the sand dusted Iron Throne with her back to him. Her head was decorated a headdress, made of bright yellow and purple feather and flowers. Her body was bare on the top, and he admired the dimples on her low back. At her hips was a golden belt, and in the metal there were tiny carved panthers.  Sandor blinked as he realized that in her right hand, she held on to his bloodied blade longsword. The same sword that her moist lips had kissed one night in his damp, dark chambers. A memory that still set a flame in his loins._

_Suddenly, she spun around on her bare feet to face him. His eyes noticed her bright mouth first, her full lips painted red as blood. Then to her eyes which the whites of them seemed slightly pink as if she had been crying, yet she had a smile. He took a step towards her, and she backed up, adorably dragging his heavy sword as best as her thin arms would let her. Shaking her head, she bit her full bottom lip, receding closer and closer to the Iron Throne.  Sandor closed the distance between them with a few wide strides, reaching quickly he pulled his sword from her delicate hand. Sandor held onto it for a second, looking down at the crimson blood that dripped from the smooth blade and stained the sand. He dropped the sword and as soon as he did he felt Imani's hands all over him. One hot paw yanking at his belt while the kitten claws of the other yanked at the opening in his gorget and pulled him closer._

_Imani's throbbing lips crushed against his, her spit tasting like mangos. The coloring on her mouth smeared and painted lips as well. The feeling of her tongue grazing across his made his cock throb with need._

_"I miss you," Imani whispered, before going back to her violent kisses. Sandor wrapped his arm around her waist and then placed her floor. She had sand on her soft tan palms, golden grains covered the bottom of her bare feet and embedded themselves in her braids like flecks of actual gold. Imani gazed up at him, laying in the same spot that she had stood when he saw her on that night when he first had the pleasure of feeling someone so perfect. "Will you really come to me?"_

_Sandor undid the buckles of his armor, shedding them as quickly as he could._

_"Of course,"  he pulled off his tunic and leered down at her. "And I get there, I'm not going to sleep," He pushed her warm thighs apart and licked his lips. "I'm not going to eat...."_

_Imani tilted her head back with a moan as pressed the head of his cock against her tight, warm twat. "I'm just going to fuck your Summer cunt and put a child in you." Sandor hissed before he slammed into her._

_"Ahhh!" Imani cried out, as she reached up and grabbed a greedy handful of his hair and pulled him into another fervent kiss. He growled as she bit him, and Imani ripped with a purr as he fucked her harder, and harder. Her black eyes tinged with pleasured tears as he slammed in and out of quickly._

_"Sandor! Sandor! Sandor!" she uttered, breathlessly over and over again as she trembled and quivered from the feeling of his cock filling her. She wrapped her arms around him and Sandor felt her sandy palms on his skin. Suddenly she raked her sharp claws down his back--_

* * *

Bolting awake Sandor sat up quickly in the dark. Even though it had been a dream the sting of her passionate scratches had felt so real that they had ripped him way from the dream and slammed him back into consciousness. The stomped out campfire was still smoking and Sandor glanced up to see that the Stark girl was still there, and fast asleep.

"God damn," Sandor whispered as he rubbed his face in frustration. His mind had betrayed him with the vivid memory of when Imani had actually ran her nails down his back, breaking the skin, drawing blood and even though it hurt how his cock throbbed and twitched inside of her because of it. With a groan, he plopped back down and stared up at the black star filled sky. The imagined image of her gentle, tanned palm hands gripping the leather bound handle of his sword persisted in his mind. Her teary eyes but smiling bright mouth contradicted themselves. Yet, her dragging his bloody sword away from him was clear dreamsign manifested from the dark recesses of his subconscious.

It was either her or the persona he created to hide behind. For if he made it to her, and that golden beach there would be no need for The Hound. The worst intolerable nightmare would be for him to actually be the monster that his brother force him to be.

 


	24. Chapter 24

The parchment felt gritty between Imani's delicate fingertips. The heavy thick book smelt old, ancient. Faded, browning ink told the story of every death and birth of each person who shared the Blood off the Panthers.

The yellowed, faintly grassy smelling pages told the tale of The Great Father, who's name was now lost to time. He was a folklore figure, who in song and tales was said to have turned into a panther with golden eyes, by way of old magic and devour his enemies alive.

Imani remembered being a young girl, on her father's knee as he told her great tales of her ancestry and how her older sister would when she actually believed the stories.

_"Aye, baby sister. You are as gullible as a fish on a hook."_

Imani snorted at the memory as she turned the pages gently, not wanting to rip or crinkle a single one as she read the old names. There were a few distant, Xe's that had one non-Summer Isle parent, mostly all of them had salty Dornish father's. Men who came to trade with their southern neighbors, or even just for the pleasure of seeing the archipelago past the Summer Sea. In Dorne, they sang songs about Summer Islands girls, with feathers in their hair and earth in their skin.  
Mingling between the Dornish and Summer Islanders was a rather usual event, given their proximity and the similarities of their cultures. Their unions bore children of passion and sometimes marriage soon followed. Mentions of half parentage from Sands, Speared Suns, and Black Scorpions dotted the large book.

Imani let out a hum as she brushed one of her thick braids behind her jeweled ear, reading the long titles and names.

 _Prince_ Zabal _Xe: Born from Princess Taza of The Panther Blood and Prince Harro Rama of Isle Koj, blood of Blue Birds._

 _Sa Xe, Born of Ral of The Panther Blood and Shear of_ Naath _._

_Princes Nalha Xe, Born of Princess Iveta of The Panther Blood and Olys Sand of the Speared Sun._

All children born of a Xe were considered Panthers birth, even though in other parts of the world they would be called 'bastards'.  
  
There were listings of old families, that were said to date back all the way to a time when the Summer Islanders thought that there was nothing past the vast sea. Through the vast book before her daughter's birth Imani had only seen two mentions of Westerosi houses that were not from Dorne. One described with the sigil of a Tower while the other was Nine Bats.

"Bats, that would be..." she muttered to herself, glancing up to the smooth, stone ceiling as she thought to herself.

Westeros was full of houses, with odd symbols, and even stranger names on her summer tongue, there was no way she could remember them all of them or even try to. Imani shrugged dismissingly at the mention of the northern houses, as she turned from the page that dated back almost two hundred years ago to the most recent entry:

 _Princess_ Mereya _Xe: Born from Princess Imani of The Panther Blood and Sandor Cleagene of Westeros, of Three Hounds._

  
Imani smiled and hummed lovingly as she stared at his name, which she had put in the book herself. She ran her fingertips over the deep black ink and with a hazy sigh she looked up to the top of her golden wood dresser, her dark eyes landing on his helm that she had placed there like a vigil.

Heat flooded her dark cheeks as she remembered bits and pieces of the nightmarish dream that she had the night before. Sandor's gloved and armored hands grabbing her through the thick darkness. Groping her, his clenched teeth at her ear, his beard scratching at her neck as he growled horrible, disgusting things.

_"I'm going to fuck you till you're sore."_

In the dream, he had put her on her back, one large hand on her neck while the other ripped and tore at her gown. With a dark, deep chuckle he put his greedy mouth to tit, sucking and yanking at it, leaving her nipple sloppy and wet with his spit.

_"I want to take you every which way..._

Imani wrinkled her brow, trying to kick the images of the dream from her head, but they persisted. Sandor unlacing his breaches, presenting her with his throbbing, pulsing cock, pre-seed oozing from the tip.

She closed the heavy book and pushed it off of her lap, and plopped down on her bed, closing her eyes, giving up on fighting the thoughts of those dark delights. He had filled her, compleatly, to the root in one hard thrust of his hips. His thumbs parting her lower lips so he could see cock slip in and out of her.

"Oh...." Imani breathed as she slipped her hand under her simple white gauzy gown. Her fingertips meeting her slick cunt, wishing that it was him who was touching her, yet a part of her hated how he could still make her writhe like a cat in heat. She had longed for him to put his hand around her neck, yet it wasn't something that he would do. No matter how much he had lied years ago, she knew that he had always been scared of harming her. Yet, in he dreams she could have him as rough as she wanted.

_"I want to hear you tell me that this cunt is mine."_

Imani moaned and slipped her fingers into her slick twat, attempting to recreate the feeling of him filling her. She pinched her nipple trough the thin fabric of her gown, fantasizing about him fucking her roughly, gripping her thighs, biting her neck. Her fingers worked quicker, more desperate.

"Fuck--" she panted, as her back arched. Her cunt quivered as imagined him pulling out and flipping her over on her stomach.

_"I said I wanted to take you every which way."_

Envisioning him forcing her up on her knees before he spat down the crack of her ass, his cock pressing against her tight hole before slipping inside.

"Oh, my Gods...." Imani moaned her fingers moving faster and faster as she thought about him taking her ass while he put his fingers into he cunt, filling both of her holes. Her toes curled and she threw her head back, whimpering and moaning his name over and over again. She lifted her hips off of the bed, biting her lip to stop herself from screaming out as she came from the thought of him finishing deep inside of her. "Ahh--Sa-Sandor!" She stammered, twitching alone of her bed. Pulling her hand from between her brown thighs Imani stared at the glistening wetness that coated them before she put them to her and tasted herself.  
"Fuck you for this, Clegane..."

* * *

 

  
They were making their way under the drab, gray Riverlands sky. They had come across a pig farmer who was on his way to the Twins to deliver his salted pork for the wedding. Sandor, thinking quickly had knocked the man out, planning to kill him, yet little Arya begged him not to. For that reason alone he spared the poor farmers life, but he did steal his cart. Saying that it would make it easier for him to sneak her into the wedding disguised as a hog farmer.

"Can you stop it?" The little girl asked as they made they made their way down the narrow trail under the green, misty forest trees.

"What?" he asked, his mouth full of pig meat.

"You chew so loud," She hissed, rolling her icy eyes. Sandor scoffed and then chewed even louder just to the agitate the girl. Arya gritted her teeth. "You're going to eat all pigs before we even get there."

"Fuck, I wish I could, haven't had a good meal in weeks," he didn't care what she said he was going to enjoy more than a bit of salted meat. "It's fucking good, you should have some."

"Seven hells, I can't wait to be away from you," Arya said.

"I feel the same for you, believe me. I don't want to spend the rest of my life riding around with a dirty little girl child." He said causing her to turn her quickly and sneer up at him.

"You are calling me dirty? You positively reek, you know." She told him with narrowed eyes.

"Aye, and I could shine my armor with the grease that is in your hair." Sandor cut back at the girl, watching as she tightened her lips and make a nasty little face at him.

"I hate you." Arya uttered simplistically as she turned back around, hearing him hum in acknowledgment before he spoke.

"Do you realize how fucking lucky you are to come across me, right?" His question was meet with a groan from Arya, he was right even though she didn't want to admit it.  
"If I was a man like my brother, you would be dead...or worse."

"I saw him when I was captured and taken to Harrenhall," Arya spoke, remembering when the giant of a man had stared at her for a moment, and for a second she thought he had recognized her before he turned away. Her hacked short hair cut and boys clothing made her blind in.

"You're lucky he didn't pay any attention to you." Sandor rasped and Arya turned and looked glanced back up at him. His jaw was clenched, and he had his brows lowered in a tight scowl, at the simple thought of his brother. Everyone who was anyone knew that Gregor had given his baby brother his burns, yet Arya's little glassy eyes knew that there was more to the tale of The Mountain and The Hound. There was silence for a moment before he inhaled and spoke.

"When we get to The Twins, and I present you alive and well to your mother and brother I need you to do your part."

Arya made a snorting noise and rolled her eyes. "What does that even mean?"

"It means, you have to make it clear that I never beat you or touched you." It was something that needed to be said and made clear because once that Starks realized who he was, they were going to assume that he was just like his brother. A curse he had suffered his whole life from sharing the last name Clegane.

"Ew." Arya uttered, making a disgusted face.

"Aye, you're a little lady,"

"Don't fucking call me that." She snapped, but he ignored her.

"Your fucking virtue means something, so have to tell make it clear that I didn't harm you at all."

"Aye, Aye!" Arya whined, she didn't want to talk about this with him at all and she was shocked when he stopped the horse, his large hand grabbing her by her face as he made her look him.

"I'm not fucking kidding, girl. If they even suspect...you're brother will have his mean kill me, right there." His voice lowered, to a serious whisper. "I'm going to ask you again, do you understand?"

Arya slowly nodded her little head, "I do." Sandor let her face go and they continued on. "How much do you think they're going to pay for me?"

"A lot," Sandor grunted, his fingers already itching to count the gold that he would get.

"What are you going to do when you get it?" The girl asked, gripping on to his horses black mane as the trail got slightly steeper.

"I'm going to get the fuck out of Westeros." He told her and if Arya would have turned around she would have seen a tiny smirk on his lips.

"Lucky you."

"Aye, you're right. Lucky me."

* * *

  
They were there, finally at The Twins. Sandor kept his cloak hood up, trying to hide his disfiguring burns, knowing that if anyone saw them before he could have a word with The Young Wolf and his mother they might try to kill him on sight. He had been the sworn protector of the king that had started this very war, so it would have been foolish for him to expect a warm welcome.

Stark banners flew outside of the walls, and men celebrated, drinking and laughing with the usual merrymaking that came with weddings. Yet, as soon as Fery guard told them that the feast was over, Sandor knew that something was not quite right. Arya sat practically shaking with anticipation in the cart, this was as close to the family she had been since the royal executioner had swung his sword and took her father's head. On that very day, at The Sept of Baelor in King's Landing, The Hound himself had lifted Ned Starks severed head, showing it to the cheering crowd. Yet, oddly here he was, trying to get to her loved ones of course for his own selfish means but she didn't care.

Arya perked up, seeing guards running past them, heading past the stone wall of the castle. When the guard told them again that the feast was over and to turn around, Sandor clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. He was so close to having the gold that he desperately needed, so close that he could almost taste it, but he couldn't shake that feeling. That odd tingle at the back of the neck, hairs standing on end, that impossible to describe inner voice whispering.

_This is wrong, something is wrong._

Wedding feasts for nobles lasted all through the night, sometimes ending only when the sun finally peeked up from the horizon. As Joffrey's dog, he had been to many of wedding feast, hating them all because they never seemed to end. Sandor went to part his lips to speak to Arya, something to the tone of 'well, girl we will have to try another way' but when he looked back she was gone from the cart. "Fuck." He ignored the guards yells as he charged through on Stranger's back.

The dread that he felt in the air was none another than treachery. The wedding was an attack in disguise. Lord Walder Frey had invited Robb and his troops to his hold fast only to turn on them while they laughed and drank. Not many things were seen as sacred in Westeros, but Guest Rights were.

Sandor jumped off of his horse, releasing the cart from the saddle before he ran off to try and find Arya. The thought of leaving her there didn't even flicker in is mind, he saw Frey soldiers massacre Stark bannermen with the cups of ale still in their shocked hands. If anyone saw her and even suspected who she was they would slit her thin, pale throat, of that he was sure.

"You!" A Frey man yelled, clenching his sword as he ran toward Sandor. Foolishly ignorant of who he was charging towards.

"Ugh, I don't time for this," Sandor grumbled, as he pulled down his hood. The young Frey soldier saw his face and his eyes widened in shock and realization, people knew stories of his burnt face, but it was too late. Sandor quickly swung his sword, and with one strong chop he lopped off the young man's head. Before the still twitching body could hall to the dirt Sandor was already walking away, focused on finding Arya before anyone else did. Wolf banners burned and men screamed, and finally he saw her short, form just ahead of him. Quickly stepping over to her right as her tiny hands when to reach for the large wooden door of the castle. He grabbed her by her arm, and she turned around, panic in her moony wide, wild eyes.

"It's too late," her even though she knew that just past that door that her mother and brother were already dead she still tried to yank away from his grasp, in utter desperation. With a swift punch to the back of her head, Sandor knocked Arya out, dropping her to the dirt. "This has all gone to shit," he muttered bitterly to himself as he picked her up and threw her limp body over his large shoulder.

The air smelled of blood and fire as Sandor rode out from the castle walls. Arya still unconscious, her face resting against this chest. He held on to her, making sure that her slack body didn't fall from his horse as they attempted to escape. The Stark forces were completely destroyed, and not a man flying a wolf banner stood a chance.

"Here comes The King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North! Here comes The King in the North!" Voices cheered, with sick jubilance in their tones. Sandor narrowed his eyes in the dark and for a moment he couldn't make out the figure on the horseback that the men surrounded. Arya let out a small whimper as she came to, hazily lifting her sore head. And it was then, right then when he realized what they were parading. It was the mutilated corpus of Robb Stark, decapitated with his own Direwolfs head, sewn onto his neck. Things did not disgust The Hound, he knew horrors more than most, yet never in all of his horrible nightmarish life had he seen with his own two eyes something so sick. It wasn't enough for them to simply take the Young Wolfs head, but to butcher his body and march it around as a joke, was nothing short of abhorrent.

He saw the look on Arya's face, and it chilled to his core. The wide-eyed blankness as she stared at what was once her brother, now nothing more than a dismembered sack of meat strapped to a pole and horse. The fact that she didn't scream, nor sob, as the silent tears ran down her face, was disturbing. Sandor had seen the darkness in her before then, her cold face threats that reminded him of himself at her age. Yet, she could have come back from the trauma that the War of the Five Kings had inflicted upon her but as she just stared vacant of emotion. Sandor knew that whatever woman that the child _would_  have been was gone. There was no going back from that, every time she closed her eyes she would see that behind her pale lids, and she would hear the Frey's changing her mind.  
That she would either go insane or bury her real self under someone so twisted and full of hate. Just like him....  
Without a word, Sandor turned his horse and they left as fast as they could.

* * *

  
Imani could stare at their daughter for hours, constantly smiling at how adorable she was. Her soft hair with the swirls at the sides and curls at back. The makings of her father's strong nose. Little Mereya shared her mother's full lips, and feline eye shape but the color echoed of Sandor's. She was a tall 3-year-old, and it was obvious that she would take after the Clegane's when it came to height, but her already knobby wrists, high collar bones, and long neck suggested that she would eventually lose her baby fat and have the Xe's waifish form.

Mereya blinked her eyes open, waking from her warm mid-day nap, her head resting on her mother's silk covered lap.

"Well hello there, my lovely," Imani smiled glancing down at her stirring child. Mereya yawned loudly and then flipped over on her back and stared up at her mother. The yellow sun was behind Imani's head, obscuring her face in shadow yet to her small child the light behind her made her seem otherworldly.  
The little girl stared at her mother and randomly as if she had been dreaming about it Mereya asked the question that Imani had been dreading since she learned how to utter words.

"Mama, who is my father?" The small child questioned and the words slammed through Imani's heart, momentarily stunning the wind from her lungs as if she had punched in the gut. it was a painful thing, Imani knew that Mereya had seen other children with their father's and yet as a Princess she was lacking one. Even being a child so young she realized that she looked different that the rest of family, lacking the deep dark skin and coiled hair.

Imani sighed, closing her eye before she spoke, softly. "Your father comes from a far off land, my sweet. A land called Westeros," Imani stoked her child's hair and smiled down at her as best as she could, with the hurt the heart in her heart.

"Were is that?" Mereya asked, her eyes widening.

"It is beyond the sea, to the north."

At her words, Mereya scampered up and turned around to look out towards the balcony. Her eyes staring out to the crystal clear waters. "Past there?" she asked with a sudden burst of excitement.

"Aye, " Imani said turning to look out as well. "He comes from a land of knights, steel, kings and the cold."

"The cold?" The child asked, her baby features working dynamically.

"Aye, my darling." Imani's lips quivered and she struggling to hold back tears.

"What's he like? What does he do? What does he look like?" The child squeaked practically bouncing with curiosity.

Imani looked away, quickly wiping the tears from her face before she spoke. "He's a great big tall man, with light skin and he wears steel."  
Mereya looked at her mother, blinking rapidly, her child mind coming up with a mystical envisioning of such a person. "He protected the one king of that land and he is a great warrior," Imani told her, looking in those shadowy eyes, feeling as if she would crumble into sobs at any moment. Telling her child about the father that she might not ever meet gutted her. It would have much more simple to tell her that her father died a great death before she was born, but Imani couldn't bring herself to lie to horribly about him.

* * *

  
_"He sounds scary, mama."_  

They were far away now and Sandor laid Arya down to rest. The little wolf didn't fight him, nor hiss horrible things, limp in his massive arms her pale cheeks wet with numb tears.

_"Some people think that he is..but..."_

He said nothing to her, only pulling off his cloak and covering her stocked, still body with it. Lingering there for a second wishing she would close her eyes and sleep, but she didn't, only staring blankly at the black, starless sky that loomed above. Sandor backed away and sat down on the chilly, dewy grass.

_"I know, that deep down..."_

He slowly put his hand over his mouth, feeling the uncomfortable sensation of hot tears pricking his eyes. He felt panicked, unsure, confused. His plan was starting to crumble and burn, and the idea of not getting to the only person that had ever cared for him made his gut coil. The dream of being close to her again was slipping away like golden sand between her fist. Yet, never seeing Imani again wasn't the only thing that made him feel as if he was pricked by a thousand thorns. Sandor looked back over at Arya, recalling the horror of his own childhood and that this girl was going to end up, twisted and broken just him.

_"I know he is good."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sniff* Poor bbys.


	25. Chapter 25

_Through the muggy darkness he could feel her presence behind him. That hot smooth, skin pressed against his back. Sandor clenched his jaw and tried to move but couldn’t. A set of full, moist lips pressed themselves against his bare shoulder blade. Two delicate hands reached around him, fingers running through his thick chest hair._

_“Clegane,” Imani’s flowery voice whispered against his skin as her mouth moved higher to his neck._

_“I want you.” Sandor uttered, his body shuddering with tingles as she raked her teeth along the crook of his neck._

_“I know,” her tone was hot, yet faintly mocking as her nails raked along his broad chest. Sandor wanted to move, he wanted to grab her, shove her to the floor and have his way with her. Crush his lips violently against hers, taste her spit. He wanted to bury his cock in her and finish deep inside of her perfect, pink summer cunt. Yet, no matter how much he tried he couldn’t move, as if Imani was holding him in place, as impossible as that was._

_One of her dark hands slithered up, putting her thin fingers to his lips. Darting his tongue out he could taste her slightly salty wetness, willingly he opened his mouth and sucked her fingers clean of her taste. He felt her lips smile against him as one hand moved down and started to unlace his breeches._

_“I miss this cock.” Imani breathed in his ear as her hot, little paw grabbed his slightly stiff rod._

_“Let me see you,” he groaned, feeling himself grow harder in her fist._

_“You’re never going to get me, Sandor.” Her words burnt like a hot poker in the chest._

_“Don’t,” he hissed, as she started to stroke him._

_“It is true, it is known.” Imani sucked on his neck and he bit his lip trying to kill a moan before it escaped mouth. He felt her run her thumb over the swollen head of his cock, snickering at the feeling of the slick pre-seed that oozed from it._

_“Don’t fucking say that,” Sandor whispered, the pleasure of her hands and the pain of her words happening simultaneously confuse him._

_“It's nothing more than a daydream you made up.” She stroked his cock faster, causing him to pant desperately. He knew this was a dream, he knew it really wasn’t her, but rather his own horrible self-doubt and self-loathing appropriating her sound and feel. His pessimistic thoughts manifesting as the very thing he yearned for the most. Yet, hearing her voice say those words is what hurt the most. “What if…” she stroked his throbbing cock faster and he shuttered for breath. “What if I won’t have you?” Imani ran her nails down his chest, the sting of the welts left behind fitting the bite of her hateful words. It had been years since they had seen each other, on the dock in King’s Landing when he told her he wanted nothing to do with her when he broke her heart._

_That vision he had, the vivid one of her with a crown of flowers, with the bleeding palm. Sandor wanted to believe that had been real not a simple dream, something she had conjured from Summer Isle magic that he was ignorant about. Yet, rationality told him that the bitter truth was that Imani’s dream phantom had just been that, that she had not really spoken to him before Stannis’ ships made it to Blackwater Bay. That they real, living, breathing Imani not the dancing fey versions from his mind, actually loathed him now._

_“Do you remember what you said to me?” Imani purred, her voice more salacious than it should have been given what she was saying. Sandor wrinkled his brow, his mind tormented, yet his loins quivered and pulsed in her palm._

_“Aye, I remember,” he rasped. “I can never fucking forget.” A chill ran down his spine when she let out a strange, girlish growl._

_“And yet you think you can come crawling back to me, on your knees…”_

_He hated that she was touching him while spitting rancorous words that the real Imani would never breathe. His body was independent of his mind, and he despised the feeling his cock yet at the same time he wanted it._

_“I get on my--ahh--” he stammered at the coiling sensation that was building his lower abdomen. “--I get on my knees for no one.”_

_Imani let out a scorching gush of laughter, the laugh that he remembered and adored so much._  
_“Lies,” she purred as he stroked him faster her other hand slipping into his breeches as well to tease and cup his balls. He groaned bucking his hips against her tan, sweet palms growing closer with each movement of her fingers. “I remember you being on your knees a lot to eat my twat”_

_Sandor hissed at her words, if she had been anyone else he would have called her a ‘bitch’, ‘whore’ or ‘cunt’ yet, he could not. Not to her, not even in a nightmarish dream with her saying such vile things that he would say. He tilted his head to one side and she nipped at his neck and right before he could coat her hand in his warm, cum he was jarred awake--_

* * *

  
It took him a fraction of a second to realize what the sound that had yanked him from sleep was. In a cold, uncomfortable sweat he sat up and blinked in the dark. It was a girls scream, Arya's screams in her sleep. Her, body tightly coiled in the fetal position, hands balled up to both sides of her head as she shook and cried. Sandor quickly stammered to his feet and ran over to her. His large hands grabbing her tiny shoulders, causing her to thrash in a frenzy, her arms attempting to knock him back.

"Fuck you! Fuck you!" Arya screamed her eyes still clenched shut, flushed cheeks wet with tears.

"Girl! Girl, wake up!" Sandor hissed, shaking her out of her nightmare, that no doubt involved what was left of her brother, his mangled body topped with his Direwolfs head. Walder Frey's men chanting, _"Here comes the King in the North._  Repeat, forever.

Arya dropped her arms, and stared up at Sandor with wide panicked eyes, for a moment she looked very much like a helpless little girl. A little orphan, who was alone, terrified and for a second Sandor thought that she would break down and sob. Yet, as soon as the vulnerability had come, it was gone with a blink.

Arya sniffled, as she yanked out of his grasp. Wiping her snub nose with the back of her grubby hand before she looked away from him. He slowly stood up, letting out an exhausted sigh before he spoke.

"It's almost dawn. We should get going."

She glanced up at him with her bloodshot, ghostly eyes. "We?"

"Aye, girl," he walked away and started gathering up his swords that were laying beside the stomped out fire.

"What are you going to keep me for?" her little voice uttered from behind him. "My family is dead, what good am I to you?"

"You're still worth something to someone I bet," Sandor grunted coldly with a shrug of his broad shoulders as he glanced back over to her, as she sat with her knees bent to her chest. He stared at the child, hating how her nightmares cries had reminded him of his own when he was her age. That terror of thinking that once again that his brother's large hand was on the back of his head, holding him to the hot flame, melting his flesh. When he would wake up screaming, and sobbing there was no one to hold him. No one to calm him and tell him that thing were okay... just like Arya Stark.

* * *

  
Imani's black eyes stared down with glassy judgment, her healthy nails drumming on the arm on her golden throne that was made of thick woven strands of gold. Her, feathered dark guards, arms with bows, stood right beside the man that they had dragged in front of her. Hee heads of council, her two sisters stood at their place next to her. Blooming Asha wearing a crown of feathers, in yellow. Ekua, as regal as ever in dark purple, every knuckle on her hand described in gold. The deep orange glow of eventide gave the high walled throne room a slightly unsettling look.

“Do you know why you have been dragged before me?” Imani asked, reaching out her right hand, and her young servant handed her the staff of the Xe rulers before. No one really knew what the blade was actually made from, it wasn't common steel, nor castle-forged steel, she had suspected as a child that it was made of Valyrian Steel.

“No.” The man said, not lifting his head to meet her onyx eyes. Imani let out a small, almost disinterested sigh as she stood up and descended the stone stairs. Both Asha and Ekua watch her, she was different in front of her guards, different when she sat on that throne, different with the staff in her hand. Their people praised her, they called her

 _Noysed Parpel_  'High Panther' in common speak. The heads of other families respected her, young girls aspired to be like her, men and women wished to marry her.

“I will ask you again, do you know why you are here?"

The man looked up at her and then shook his head. “I didn’t do anything wro--” He was about to say ‘wrong’, but Imani silenced with a simple move of her hand. She glanced over to her right, into the shadow of the corridor and a round-faced girl stepped forward. The glowing yellow light catching on gold rings that decorated her dark, childish neck. At the sight of her the man started to panic, yanking at his roped binds and glancing at the two guards at his right and left as if they would speak for him.

"Ah, so you do know this one," Ekua said, in her usual calm and regal voice, still standing next to the throne.

"What did you tell them!?" The man yelled at the girl. She flinched and backed away, her small fist clenched and trembling.

"This is your sister, is it not?" Imani asked as she circle him. The yellow jeweled eyes of the panther pelt draped across her shoulder glaring down at him with an ethereal judgment. The bottom of the long staff dragging on the blue and white mosaic floor, causing a low, dull scraping noise.

"She is but she is a little fucking liar! I never touched her!" he screamed, his voice cracking, filling the whole stone hall with a sharp echo. As soon as he spoke he realized that he had just incriminated himself.

"I don't remember any of us mentioning that." Asha chimed, now leaning against the side of the golden throne. Picking at her nails as, unmoved by the event playing out in front of her.

"Xadera Taa," Imani said, looking at the girl who wouldn't meet her Princesse's eyes. "You have brought the accusations that this man, Balthal Taa, your brother has committed the damnable crime of rape and on your life and to the Gods you swear this is true."

The girl started to nod and she attempted to speak yet her voice caught in her throat before she could work the words out. "Aye, my princess, tis true."

"You fucking little bitch!" Balthal screamed, somehow breaking his right hand free of his roped bonds. He reached out to his sister, attempting to yank at the bottom of her gown, but before he could Imani slammed down the bottom of her staff on to the top of his hand.

Her expression was gentle, calm and in her Ekua could see a glimmer of their late lady mother. The two purple feather clad guards drew their Goldenwood bows and aimed their arrows down at the prisoner. Imani shook her head and they lowered their weapons.

"You say that this girl is a lie," Ekua spoke, her voice filling the room as she walked down the stairs as well to stand at her sister's side. "Yet, I wonder what type of father..." Ekua's last word hung, in the humid air as another person stepped forward from the shadow. Balthal's dark eyes jarred up, and there he saw his sagely father slump towards them. "Would come before the head of this land and lie about such a crime regarding his own son?" The colder elder sister hissed. His old father spoke not a word, only wiping tears from his wrinkled face. Such acts were seen as transgressions against their Gods, damnable, monstrous horrible acts that would have been forgiven in other parts of the world. Horrors that Imani's once lover' s brother had also committed. She made a sour face when she thought about how her own child's uncle, blood of her blood had done the same atrocities that she damned people for.

"You will have a trial of your peers and if you are found guilty by them your fate lays with your victim," Imani spoke, and the young man lifted his head.

"Father I--"

"You're no son of mine." The old man uttered, as he took his daughter's small hand and fought back tears once more.

"And should hope they she has mercy on you." Imani lastly spoke before she removed her staff from the top of his hand.

"No! Wait! I--" The guards picked the young man up, he struggled and fought cursing all of them, but he was forced out of hall, destined for their sandy, hot dungeons.

Imani went to turn away but the fathers, low, hushed voice called out to her. "Thank you," he said simply. "Your mother, she would be proud of you."  
The words caused Imani's eyes to flutter as she attempted to blink back salty tears at the mention of her mother.

Obasi Xe, her father had been adored by his people for being a kind and fair, yet he had his weak moments. Weakness that in his prime had been matched with his wife's tactical mind. Sauda had done the heavy lifting, she was the one that made the harsh decisions, and everyone knew that without her Obasi's rule would not have been so beloved. Once their mother died, Ekua took her place to be their father's backbone. Imani noticed that the young girl, Xadera's eyes were brimming with tears as she still stared down at the floor. Imani handed her staff over to her sister and then took the girls soft face in her warm hands. Xadera blinked up at her princess, as her thumbs wiped her tears.

* * *

 

They had been on the road for days. The Hound had watched with, a certain mix of shock and awe as the little killed her first man. A House Frey soldier, who was bragging to his fellow men about his part in what they were calling 'The Red Wedding' as they happened to pass by. He told his men how Catelyn Stark had screamed, and how they slit her throat. The thing that caused Arya to hop off of Stanger's back was the mention of the wolfs head, and how the dirty soldier claimed to be the very one to sew it onto Robb's neck.

The Hound would have grabbed her before she could walk over to the camping men, but she proved to be a quick little thing. Arya had offered the man a coin, using her most darling voice and innocent face. She dropped the coin from her fingers and as soon as the soldier bent down to pick it from the dirt she stabbed him over and over again - odd whimpering sounds leaving her mouth with each stab. The soldiers friends would have attacked her if Sandor hadn't stepped in making short work of the other three without much effort. When he asked the bloody child where she had got the knife she only responded coldly with a, "from you." before she handed it back to him. the little sneak had lifted it from him and he hadn't even noticed. There was a still about her, an uncomfortable cloudy eyed calm. She said that was the first 'man' she killed, but Sandor knew by her face that she had caused death before.

The fire between them crackled and the light reflected in Arya's pale eyes as she turned the coin that she had offered the doomed soldier between her diary and bloody fingers.

"Valar Morghulis," she whimpered. Sandor blinked up at her at the words and narrowed his eyes. His mind tripping back to another girl who also spoke the same with fingertips also covered in blood.

 _Valar Morghulis_ The remembered version of Imani uttered from thoughts, recalling her eyes that were like star-duet in that quivering moment when she bleed from between legs on his bed.

"All men must die," He grunted, and Arya blinked up at him with a twitch of her thin brown, brows.

"How do you know what that means?" The child asked, with her usual cut and poison.

"I heard it from someone once."

"Who? Who told you that?" Arya put the coin back from between her leather belt, itching with curiosity. He felt as if his thoughts and words about Imani Xe were piling behind his lips like bile. He had spoken about her only once, to that curious child's older, and prettier sister. Yet, he had been drunk, wallowing in self-hate and boiling with shame that had been lit at the sight of the other Stark girl. Her almost always wet matted lashes, those moist lips, delicate limbs and frail shoulders causing dizzy phantom Imani's to play in his head like wicked imps. He wished he could speak of her, tell little Arya the tale of the Xe sisters who much like her own family came to King's Landing for it only to end in sourness, but his pride wouldn't let him.

Sandor crudely spat and rolled his eyes at Arya's interest. "I read it once." He lied, and Arya scoffed.

"You don't look like you know how to read," Arya said, her tone not bladed but rather with the usual lightness of normal children that didn't grasp that their words could be seen as massively insulting.

"Aye, I can read _and_  write you little wolf bitch." Sandor snapped back. Ayra's expression changed at the cut in voice, and she looked down at her knees. There was silence for a moment until she lowly spoke again.

"Who taught you?"The child picked at her grimy palm "My father taught me how to read." The word 'father' caught in her throat for second. Sandor tightened his lips and looked down, his grassy hair covering half of his face. And in that second, with his burns hidden and the orange glow of the fire hitting the contours of his face in a certain way he didn't look monstrous or terrible to her.

"I think my sister did," he said, his voice a low rasp. He was unsure, his recollection of her was splotchy at best. Yet, he could recall from aging memory himself as a small child sitting on a girls lap as he looked down at book asking how to say certain words.

"You have a sister?"

"Had, she's dead." Like Imani, his sister wasn't something he talked about. He didn't remember the last time he even mentioned her out loud.

"How did she die?" Arya asked, noticing the angry expression that came across his face. Sandor's shadowy eyes slid up to meet hers, with a shake of his head and a curl of his lips Arya knew that he wasn't going to tell her that story.

"Go to fucking sleep, girl." Sandor hissed, and their conversation was over. The mother he didn't know, the sister who he couldn't remember, the first girl to see passed his burns, his gone, golden Imani, and the girl that reminded him of her, all birds in cages that The Hound suffered alone.

* * *

  
A hot huff of breath caused condensation on the steel, and then red stained lips pressed themselves to the beasts frowned, hard brows. Imani laid on her side, limp and naked her bright purple silken sheets, cradling his hound head shaped helmet in her brown smooth arms. Her thumbnail raking over the helmets chips and flecks, wondering where each imperfection was from. One nick along the snout, a cut divided on the lower right fang. She held the cold steel close to her warm chest, as she closed her eyes, and like all other nights after receiving it she fell asleep with it.

If he saw her now, she knew he would scoff and say _What are you doing, girl?_  in that rough voice of his, with only a tiny thread of compassion under it. Yet, she knew that if he was there, her little whimpers would have caused him to wipe her tears away with his thumbs as he held her face in his large hands. Yet, if he was there she wouldn't have to cry, she wouldn't have to hold on to an object that reminded her of those years ago when she visited the North and meet the father of her daughter.

Apart, a slice, a slither of her hated him for digging his claws into her, leaving wounds and open gashes that would never fully heal.

She had wished she never loved him, for love wasn't just the dizzy, beautiful thing the songs and poems mentioned in great detail and fancy. Love could be bird songs, and sighs, but also something far more akin to horror. The kind of feeling that could spawn regret, pain. agony and more importantly the almost palatable longing that never faded....

A sweet fruit that once bitten turned into rotten, rancid and sour in one's mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay with it, shit is about to happen.


	26. Chapter 26

Asha didn't bother knocking on her sister's chamber door, only barging in surprising Imani, who had barely woken up, her eyes still adjusting to the bright yellow light of the morning.

"What is it?" Imani asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with one hand, holding up the silk bed sheet to her chest with the other.

"I heard the most horrible thing," Asha said, as she plopped down on her sister's bed. Her thick, large wooly hair fanning out across the sheets.

"What thing?"

Asha flipped over on her side and propped her head up with one jewelled and decorated hand, thin bands of gold around every bony finger. "King Joffrey is getting married," she said. Her face twisting into disgust as if there wasn't a time when she, herself could have been his bride.

"Aye, I know," Imani shrugged as she slipped out of bed, holding onto the sheet as she wrapped herself up in it, creating a makeshift gown. "We were invited to the wedding."

Asha sat up quickly at her sister's words. "What? Why didn't you tell us?"

Imani let out a chuckle as she strolled over to her high chamber window and looked out at the courtyard below.

"Because it was done as an insult. He invited us so you could see someone else become queen. As a way to show you what you missed out on."

Asha rolled her eyes and made a sort of hissing noise. "That sounds like him," she twirled a lock of hair around her fingers. "He's marrying a girl named Margaery Tyrell? Do you know anything about her?"

"Why are you interested?"

"I don't like the idea of some sad girl marrying that boy, he's an absolute monster."

"He would have been your nightmare, sister," Imani said, strolling over to her vanity and took a seat on the plush stool. Asha smirked, narrowing her long, dark eyes as she shook her head slowly, seeming far older than a girl.

"You underestimate how obsessed he was over me. I beguiled that boy, and if I had married him he would have been like wet sand in my hand if I could have got rid of his mother," she rolled over on her back. "I hope his bride is like me."

"By all accounts she is a cunning girl," Imani said, she was well aware of the goings on when it came to the north even more now that she was the head of her own people. Information was worth its weight in gold to a ruler and she had lots of both. There had been a bloody war in the north and to the east there was a Targaryen with three dragons it would have been foolish for the Summer Isles, who sat in the middle stay ignorant. Yet, she knew that most of her fellow princesses and princes of other high family were not so compelled with the whispers of the rest of the world as some of them had no ties to other realms.

"Good to hear..." she paused and ran a thin dark finger over her full lips. "Wasn't he supposed to marry some other poor girl?"

"Aye, he was to marry Sansa Stark."

"Stark...." Asha breathed the last name as if trying to recall it. She perked up when she realized where she heard it before. "That was the Hand of the King they beaded right? Was his son the King in the North?"

Imani nodded, she remembered hearing about the beheading of Eddard Stark how that had sparked the war. "Yes, it was. They called his son the Young Wolf, his rebellion is over now...him and his men were killed at a wedding."

Asha made a disgusted face, "Who murders people at weddings?"

"Northerners." Imani snapped, such a thing was unheard of to them. Utterly monstrous, yet intriguing. "The Lannisters forced the Stark girl that was still in King's Landing to marry Tyrion."

"The imp?"

"Aye, it's better than some things that happen to prisoners of war." That had been a rather interesting bit of information. The whoring Tyrion Lannister forced to marry the sister of the crowns enemy. It must have been exciting, and a horrible time to be in King's Landing. "That poor little bird..."

"Humm?"

"Nothing." Imani shook her head and waved her hand dismissively. Asha looked at her, to see her sister staring down at her hands as she picked at the raised scar on her palm.

"If _he_ ," they all knew who he was in the content of Imani, "...was still in King's Landing would you have gone to Joffrey's wedding?" Asha asked, and Imani dug her nail into her palm at the question. She could picture him, tensed jaw, hand on his sword as he stood beside Joffrey as he kissed his bride. Ready to kill for someone that he despised, she would never understand why he stayed there for so long.

"I don't know." Imani uttered, she truly had no idea what she would do if she was physically face to face with him again. Her nerves were still hot with tenderness and lust by underneath was bitterness, hurt, and rage. Still asking, _'How dare you fucking hurt me?'_

Asha sat up and faced her sister, propping her head up with both hands under her cute, pinched chin.

"Well, no matter what I'm sure the Lions wedding would be a sight to see; if only for the dramatics."

"I'm sure it will be nothing short of a painful, awkward and petty event," Imani said rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "Long live the king..."

* * *

Her legs hurt, so did her back, the dull ache of being on a horse for hours without a saddle. Her fingers were numb from clenching onto to Strangers mane, and her tailbone was sore from the consent bobbing due to the uneven terrain that they rode on.

“What are we even doing?” Arya finally huffed, they couldn’t just keep wondering about, could they?

“We are on a horse, in the middle of fucking nowhere. That is what we are doing.” He grunted, sarcastically.

“You know what he the hell I mean. Are we just going to be doing this forever?”

“Girl, you think I like being out here with you?” Sandor asked, rolling his eyes at her. He could have been halfway across the Summer Sea if is original plan had panned out. Yet, all was not lost, he was coming up with something that could grant him even more gold than selling her to the Starks could have, but he wasn’t sure wanted to tell her about it just yet. He wasn’t even sure himself if he wanted to go through with his new forming idea, if he did then that meant that they would have to travel through areas populated with Hill Tribes and they were known to be a rather vile bunch, bunch being the most important word.

“Hey, look,” Arya said, removing her grip from the black horse’s mane so she could point ahead of them to what seemed like an abandoned shack in the distance. Yet, as soon as she released her hand she almost slipped off, but Sandor quickly caught her.

“Will you watch it, what good would you be if you fell and cracked yer’ skull?” Sandor hissed as he propped her back up on the horse. She didn’t utter a ‘thank you’ only curling her lips and looking back towards the shack.

“Looks empty.”

 “Might be a trap,” Sandor grunted and narrowed his eyes.

“Come on, we should go look. There might be food.” The girl urged, feeling her gut grumble at the idea of something to fill it with.

Cautiously, they made their way towards the drab shack just as it started to drizzle. Sandor got off of his horse and Arya went to do the same, but the Hound put his hand up and shook his head. “If we need to get the fuck out of there in a hurry I don’t want to have to worry about putting you back on this horse.” He pointed at her just like a father would his own misbehaving child. “You stay here until I come back to get you, and I promise if you run I will—“

“Oh my god, where the hell would I run off to?” Arya said throwing her hands up in the air.  Sandor rolled his eyes, she did have a good point, but he wouldn’t ever tell her that.  He gave her a stern look before he pulled out his sword and walked towards the shack. Looking around he didn’t see anybody, not a soul and not a horse. He clenched his group on his sword before he pushed open the wooden door, ready to swing at someone yet, it was abandoned. It looked as if someone had been there and just left everything that they owned. There was a bed that was far too small for him, a table with a few loafs of bread and most importantly ale.  

* * *

Arya stared at him as she laid down on the dingy, damp bed as a storm howled outside of the poorly built shack. Sandor sat in a creaking chair, his muddy boots up on the wooden table while he drank the skunky ale. She noticed that each time he took a drink he made a face, and it was obvious that he wasn’t drinking to enjoy the flavor. 

“Don’t you think you should take it easy with that?” She asked, and he pulled the pitcher of ale away from his lips and looked at her, his beard wet with it.

“Why would I?”

“What if we get attacked and you’re drunk?”

Sandor made a mocking hacking noise at her words. “Being drunk has never stopped me from gutting a man before, I’ve been doing this for years, girl. I can handle a little ale.” Drinking took the edge off for him, made things a bit more bearable. He had always looked to alcohol, but after seeing that Summer Isle ship sail away he started to drink more. There had been times, that he would like to forget where he had drunk himself to the point of blackouts. Almost choking on his own vomit, waking up slightly confused as to where he was.

 “I’ve never understood the point of it,” Arya said as she sat up.

“Girl, it would do you good to have a bit too...” he paused before taking another drink. “Makes it easy to forget.” He took a big gulp and then offered the pitcher to her. Arya looked at it, remembering the one time that her father allowed her to have some ale when she was younger, and how he laughed when her face twisted to disgust as she let out a ‘Uck!’ noise.

“No,” she shook her head. Sandor shrugged and took another long drink.

“Fine, more for me.”

* * *

 

The Hound had drunk every single drop and before long he was lulling back in the chair, his arms limp and his eyes heavy. Drunken daydream visions of Imani fluttered in his mind, he could picture her falling into his large lap or standing behind him with her fingers playing in his brown hair. Sandor’s lips twitched into a hint of a smile as he thought about how he find that Imani had decorated his hair with a single braid long after she had left him for the night. Something so simple seemed silly, and childish yet it made him feel something in an unknown part of him.

“So...are you ever going to tell me where  we’re going?” Arya’s harsh, little voice said, knocking him out of his daydream. Sandor snapped his head towards her and narrowed his eyes at the child.

“Don’t you ever stop asking fuckin’ questions?” Sandor slightly slurred.

“So I’m annoying because I want to know where we are going?” She snapped.

“Aye, child you are a pain in my ass. If I didn’t need to get to—“ he was about to say ‘to the Summer Isles’ but right as he would have drunkenly spill his true intentions they both heard Stranger neigh loudly from outside, followed by a few male voices. Sandor jumped out of the chair, knocking it over to the dirt floor. He unsheathed his sword and looked over at her. "Stay," he ordered as he moved closer to the door.

Arya listened to the voices of the men outside, it had been a trap set by bandits. To lure lone travelers to the shack only to jump them in the middle of the night, kill them and take their silver. Yet, it the two men had no idea that the huge, dangerous Hound was lurking behind that door. He glanced over at Arya who was sitting up clenching the sheet of the bed, he put one finger to his mouth telling her to stay silent. The door was pushed open and before the bandits had the opportunity to blink the steel of Sandor's sword had found its way in through the chest of the first man. What he told her earlier was no lie, even piss drunk could kill a man as if it was nothing. Drawing his sword out of the chest of the first man, he then kicked his bloody, choking body causing him to fall on top of his companion. They fell back out of the doorway, and Sandor followed.

“No! Wait!" The second man yelped pushing his friends now dead corpse off of him, as he looked up to see Sandor's massive form. Arya scurried off of the bed and ran to the doorway. There was no fight, no struggle, just a swing of The Hounds bloody blade through the bandit's neck silencing him.  

Sandor leered over the two bodies in the rain, the metallic stink of thick blood and damp water churning his drunken gut. He cringed, and swallowed attempting to stifle the sickly feeling, but he failed and vomited the rank ale back up. He whipped his mouth with the back of his large hand and then turned around to see Arya standing there staring at him. With a slightly narrowed expression, not of disgust but rather perplexity. The same look that another little sister gave him, those knowing girl eyes that were trying to figure him out. He clenched his jaw before walking past her and back inside of the shack.

Arya looked at the bloody corpses of the bandits before she shut the shack door.

* * *

She awoke in the dingy bed, but it had been one of the best night's sleep she had in awhile. Arya groaned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and raised her groggy head. Sandor was laying on the floor across the room, she found it odd that someone so big didn't snore in his sleep. Yet, she had noticed that he did utter things in the middle of the night, mostly nonsensical grunts but sometimes there seemed to be bits of sentences that were too low for her to make out.

Arya smacked her dry lips together and looked around for the water canteen. She saw the strap of it handing out of Sandor's leather satchel that laid on the floor. Getting up, she walked over to it, hearing him grunt in his sleep from across the room. Arya bent down, opening the bag and pulled out the water canteen, but she paused as her downcast, light eyes looked inside. There was something bright, green at the bottom of it. She glanced back over at Sandor, he was still fast asleep, so her small hand reached in and she pulled out a long, green feather.

The stem was almost snapped in two, it looked old and dirty. It was clearly not from any type of bird that she had ever seen. The Hound lowly rasped something in his most likely hungover sleep.

"The fuck?" The girl whispered, as she shrugged her shoulders and put the feather back in its place at the bottom of the bag, but now she was curious. With a quick glance, she made sure he wasn't about to wake up before she rummaged around in the leather bag. There was a whetstone, a few rags, a needle and thread for sewing up wounds, another much smaller knife and a folded piece of parchment. Arya raised one brow, noticing how it seemed as it had been crumpled then straightened out. It had been folded and unfolded what looked like hundreds of times, so much that it was threatening to rip. Biting her bottom lip Arya opened it, surprised by the scribble of the note. The handwriting was leafy, delicate yet had an undertone of franticness, the letters close to each other making it rather hard to decipher at first. She knew a female had written it, and it reminded her of her own sister's handwriting, yet the words told her that someone older was the author:

 _There is a secluded spot, riverside of The Red Keep, a_ stony _rocky overlook to the water. They way to it are slightly crumbling stone stairs. Do you know the place? I bet you do, meet me there when the castle sleeps._

No 'To' nor 'From'. Arya lowered her brow in confusion, why would The Hound, a violent, crude man keep a letter from a woman? The obvious explanation, one that she knew her sister would have come to seemed ridiculous to her. Yet, that the folds in the paper, the oily marks where fingers had held it countless times told her that silly conclusion was possibly the correct one. All adults had skeletons to hide, secrets to keep, and it was clear that The Hound had his own buried batch of lovely dead or living bones.

* * *

They had left the shack and were on their way again. She had said nothing about what she found in his bag, it would have been stupid if she mentioned it. Yet, the curiosity of it bit at her. What kind of woman would have fallen for him? Arya tried to imagine it, and she couldn't

"Why are you so quiet?" Sandor grunted as they bobbed along on Strangers back. "Normally, you're talking my fucking ear off." Yet, Arya stayed silent still, her bring working and pondering. She thought that only well-paid whores would even touch him yet, there was some girl out there who wanted him.

"Ew..." she muttered unintentionally

"What?"

"Nothing," she snapped shaking her head, as he stopped the horse and got off his saddle. "What are you doing?"

"I didn't know I needed your permission, Lady Wolf to take a piss." His rasping tone oozing with sarcasm as he stepped over into the bushes.  Even as crude and crass as he was, he still stepped away- never exposing himself to her. She would have figured the opposite, given how he normally acted.

"I have seen boy bits before, you know," Arya told him, with a roll of her eyes. She heard him chuckle before he stepped back out, lacing  his breaches backup.

"Aye, when you were headed to The Wall and all those morons took you for a little boy as well. I'm sure they did piss in front of you."

"Gendry knew I was a girl," Arya said, and he noticed her odd tone of voice when she mentioned this boys name. She thought back to the older boy with the scruff at his chin and messy brown hair.

"Was that they boy you were all close to when you were with the Brotherhood?" He remembered seeing her with a rather handsome young man before he fought Beric Dondarrion in that trial by combat.

"What do you mean? He was my friend." Arya said, turning out to look at him. Yet, her little pale face was slightly pinkened. He almost laughed when she wrinkled her nose.

"He knew you were a girl, yet he pulled out his cock and pissed in front of you?" He asked, still biting back a snicker.

"Well he--"

"Sounds like something else to me." Sandor mocked. Her obvious retort would have been a biting:

 _'What do you know about it anyway!?'_  

Yet it was clear from that unsigned letter that he did know about it. 

"Ugh... I fucking hate you."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live for horribly awkward Sandor and Arya bonding.


	27. Chapter 27

A low, rasping moan met the chilly, hazy morning air. The dawn light was just peeking up over the wooded horizon. Sandor had awoken from his sleep, a flame with heat, knowing that his mind had conjured up some wicked dream as usual, but he could only recall one single fact about it - the taste. It had been the thing to wake him, the phantom recollection of her on his tongue. That sweet, slick, wetness on his lips. The mango flavor of her cunt forever imprinted in his horrible mouth.

After he had been roused from dreaming, Sandor got up and went into the woods. Leaving Arya there to sleep, wrapped up in his dingy cloak for warmth.

"Fuck--" Sandor groaned, his armored back against the mossy trunk of a tree. His throbbing cock in his large fist. The lingering remembered the taste of her making his mouth water. His thoughts of her were in splintered flashes. Her licking his cum from her full lips, the feel of her soft tits in his rough hands, how she moaned and rocked her hips when he planted his face between her brown, hot thighs.

Pre-seed oozed from his cock as he stroked himself, faster, faster. The muscles in his legs tensed as he tilted his head back and moaned. The heat of his breath escaping his lips like ghosts in the cold morning. His fantasies about what he would do to her at that moment if she were right there at that moment included him running this tongue along every single inch of her. And Imani would moan in that way, rippling with a wicked giggle underneath.

"Ahh--" Sandor moaned, closing his eyes, feeling the coiling start build. Faster, faster, faster. His face burned with heat and hit bit bottom lip, hard. "Fuck--ah--" his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he let out a deep, gurgled noise from the back of his throat as his cock pulsed and he came in his fist. His hips twitched with the last throb before he dropped his hand from his cock and panted for breath.

If Imani had seen him like that, abusing his cock against a tree in the woods he had a feeling that she would have giggled at him from behind her delicate hand.

 _"Oh, hehe. You look like a mess, Clegane."_  

Imani would have said with her pearly white smile, yet she would have wiggled her hips in that way to say without saying. _'_

 _'Why don't you reenact that inside of me?_ '

"God damn it," he muttered to himself and the trees as he relaced his breeches and wiped the sweat away from his brow with the back of his hand with a gloomy huff.

Another day, still no closer to her and no matter how many times he tried to drain the poison she put in him it would simply keep coming back. "Fucking woman has no idea what's she's done to me," he whispered, tone biting with bitterness. Ignorant and unaware that this was a shared torment.

* * *

Bow arm relaxed, breathing calm, the onyx panther necklace catching the light in the hot, high sun as she released the Goldenwood arrow. It cut the air and then whizzed by and missed her target. Imani let out an annoyed sigh and lowered her bow.

"Missed again my princess." A known, hearty voice said from next to her. Imani rolled her dark eyes and looked up at her head guard, Jahar Zo.

"It was the sunlight," she muttered, looking for something to blame her missed shot on, other than her lack of skill. She wasn't horrible with a bow and arrow yet, she wasn't fantastic, unlike her little sister who could put an arrow through a beast a yard away.

"Right, princess, the sun, of course. Next we shall blame the moon and the stars." Jahar smiled warmly as Imani looked at him with a tight-lipped expression. Yet, knowing her since she as a girl gave him the familiarity to tease her much like her sisters did. He, like some of the other guards that were sworn to the panthers, had found his way into their servitude when picked from one of the orphanages as a boy. A great honor for a child had nothing to grow up in the sandstone place, tasked to protect princesses.

Imani huffed, flicking one of her long black braids out of her eyes as she grabbed another arrow out of the bunch that Jahar was holding in his dark fist. Skills with weapons were not expected of her, yet unlike other parts of the world a woman having knowledge of battle was not something to frowned upon. There was only so much dancing, singing and lounging she could do with her free time between hearing grievances and making decisions for her people. She pulled the bow back again and aimed for the target, which was a red painted 'X' on the trunk of a large palm tree. She let it go and once again it missed, hitting and chipping the side of the trees smooth bark.

"Ugh!" Imani petulantly threw the bow down to the tropical grass. "Hand me, my staff," she ordered reaching out her dark, decorated arm. The young pretty servant girl that was accompanying them stammered forward and placed the staff in her hand. Jahar watched as she twirled it, her silken covered back to him. She did not move with any type of trained precision as if she was attempting to mimic moves she had only seen before. "My mother liked to watch ceremonial dances that involved the twirling of spears and knives."

"I remember, it was one of her the favorite forms of entertainment," Jahar said with a knowing nod.

"As a girl I would try to do what they did, with this very staff then belonging to my father." Imani swung the staff, and there was the whooshing noise of the blade cutting the humid, hot air. She looked down at the wooden part of the handle, that was detailed with carved stylized panthers.

"I will teach you how to fight with your bladed staff if you so wish my princess." He smiled, once again with the gentleness of an uncle to a nice, yet she did not look up at him. "But not today, as one can not fight well in a silken gown." His tone was light and he expected her to nod in her usual fashion with a bright smile as she had done towards him hundred of times before. Yet, Imani spoke, her full lips posing a question that sounded as someone else had already given her the answer to once before.

"If had to...do you think that I could kill a man?"

* * *

**Before:**

\--

_The chilly, dank air of  his chambers cooled her sweaty, hot skin as she laid on his bed. Her head resting on his massive chest as the both rested there, naked and silent. Imani raised her head and looked at Sandor, he had one arm thrown over his face and she couldn't tell if he had drifted off to sleep or not. With a smile she slowly went to step out of bed, not wanting to bother him but as soon as she went to stand up his hand grabbed her by her wrist, causing her to gasp in surprise._

_"Leaving?" He said with a rasp as he leered up at her._

_"I thought I would let you sleep," Imani said, twisting her arm in an attempt to get out of his strong grip but, of course, she couldn't._

_"I'm not tired," Sandor pulled her back to the bed. With a charming squeak, Imani plopped back down into the sheets. Before she knew it he was on top of her, his cock already hard once more and poking at her hot inner thigh. Imani parted her soft lips, welcoming him to kiss her, yet when he didn't oblige her request quick enough she reached up and pulled him forward, kissed him instead. Sandor groaned into her mouth as her fingers played in his messy brown hair, enjoying the salacious_ sips _he took of her sweet, saliva._

_"I fucked you pretty hard already, my lady. He whispered against her kiss-swollen mouth. "I bet you're little cunt is too sore for me again."_

_Imani smiled and rolled her eyes at the feared Hound as if he was nothing more than a puppy to her._

_"Did you just roll your eyes at me?" Sandor growled, clenching his rough male jaws._

_"Aye, indeed I did, Clegane," she purred, fluttering her eyelashes at him but was surprised when he grabbed her by her chin. Instantly she could see The Hound come forward in his eyes as he stared down at her. "What? Have you killed someone for rolling their eyes at you?" she asked, sounding as if she was casually discussing flowers or music._

_"No, but once I choked a man for stealing my ale,"One single string of playfulness in his low, dark voice._

_"Well, that is rather silly," as his hand slowly moved from her chin to her neck. Sandor's gazed darkened even more, as he wrapped his large hand around her brown, delicate throat._

_"He should not have stolen my drink," He growled, waiting for her to react at his light, and gentle grip on her neck, waiting for a reaction born of fear. The horrible burned Hound on top of a naked beautiful woman with his deadly claws threading to squeeze the life out of her. To kill her would be like crushing a butterfly to him. Yet, her black eyes just stared up at him with an eerie specter knowledge, peering through him. Her gaze was far more than shallow, it peeked past the ruined face, under the muscle and even through the bone finding something deeper. A soul that he didn't think existed and if it did it was rotted and twisted yet, her eyes told him that there was something else there. He could feel her lovely, hot blooded pulse under his thumb yet it throbbed with a usual, and calm rhythm._

_**Thump...thump....thump...** _

_"Did you kill him?" Imani asked with a sweet whisper._

_"I almost did,"_

_"Do you think I could kill a man?" Her words took him by surprise. It was a dark question, but not born out of horrible thoughts. Simply a question with no light of  wickedness underneath. Sandor removed his hand from her throat only to replace it with his lips. Imani moaned and wiggled as he raked his teeth along the crook of her neck._

_"Anyone can kill, girl," he moved lower, nipping at one of her tits. "We all have monsters inside of us...."_

_Imani groaned as he licked along the raised ridges of her ribs and down her belly. She felt his hot breath right above her cunt and she bucked her hips towards his mouth with a demanding little groan. With his thumbs, he parted her wet, needy cunt and looked up at her with his shadowy eyes._

_"Even you,"  Sandor spoke before making her cum with his vulgar mouth._

* * *

 

He had told the little lady of his new plan, this one involving him ransoming her off to her aunt Lysa Arryn, The Lady Regent of the Vale. Yet, Arya seemed less than thrilled about the idea. The Vale had been his original destination before getting kidnaped by The Brotherhood, as they had been staying out of the war and no Lannister soldiers would find him up there. But now the child complicated things, the Vale was riddled with hill tribes, he knew he could evade the tribes well on his own, but now he had to deal with keeping her safe from them also. Yet, he had come to the conclusion that it was worth the risk.

Sandor knew of Lysa Arryn, she had been at court in King's Landing when her husband served as the Hand of the King before Ned Stark's tragic tenure. Everyone knew that she was an odd woman, but her maiden family words were _'Family, Duty, Honor'_ so to him, the Lady of the Vale had no choice but to take her niece and pay well for her.

The other day had been eventful through no choice his own. They had come across and inn filled with Lannister soldiers. One of them Arya said that she had come across before, a rat-faced man named Polliver; who had captured her and her friends and took them to Harrenhall. She told Sandor that he stole her sword; named Needle and used it to kill he friend and as soon as she realized he still had it the little wolf was determined to get it back. Much to Sandor's distaste they had gone inside the inn, and it quickly degraded into a brawl. Ending with Sandor killing four Lannister soldiers and Arya getting her sword back and killing the man that stole it from her. And just as Polliver had used it to kill her friend, she returned his actions. Driving the thin blade through his neck and watched him drown in his own blood. The child's darkness was there, growing every day, like a weed.

Arya trotted along beside him, now on her own horse that had once belonged to one of the dead soldiers. She knew that she could just run off, but yet she stayed with The Hound for reasons she could not really explain. With everything she wanted to hate him, and she tried so hard to. Yet, that rage she once felt for him was slipping. At the inn she saw his face when Polliver made a comment and assumed that she was The Hounds child whore, that he had kidnapped her and now was dragging her around the country to rape her every night. She had noticed how he tensed his lip at the thought.

The words to cause the fight wasn't when The Hound had said 'fuck the king' to the soldiers, but rather when Polliver through his rotting teeth had asked to have a go at her with his friends, those words caused them to die by his sword. Once he had told her how he saved her sister from a mob of rapists at a riot that happened in King's Landing. She did not believe at all, but now she did. She knew that good men could have dishonourable moments, yet seeing it backward was harder for her to understand. The Hound was a horrible, terrible man, who had killed children yet he protected her from harm. How confusing, how odd.

"So..." she uttered to break the silence between them.

"What?"

Arya shrugged, she wanted to talk about something, anything. She could not deal with another moment of silence. "What are you thinking about right now?"

"I'm thinking how much I wish you would hush up."

Arya let out a sigh and rolled her eyes. Her mind kept going back to that letter and that feather she had found in his bag, she had been itching to find someone way to bring it up. Her childish mind yearning to know the tale behind it. More importantly, what time of woman would ever care for him? She kept imagining a simple girl, with dirty blonde hair and thick-knees, the kind of girl that would be happy with making rabbit stew and pleased that anyone would ever fancy her. "Uh, come on that is how you play this game. You just say the first thing that comes into your head.

"That isn't a game, girl. It's you being nosey." Sandor grunted, as his thoughts were pulsating with almost boyish fantasies about seeing her again, silly, foolish daydreams buzzing in his skull. He always pictured their reunion happening on a beach. He would find her with her holding the bottom of her thin white gown up as she put her feet into the sea and before he could open his mouth to call her name she would raise her head and look at him. From afar he would watch her move her full lips, and know that she was uttering his name with a question: 

_Sandor...Sandor Clegane?_

"I'm thinking about killing Polliver," Arya said. "The look on his face."

"Aye, that is a good look. The look of death." He grunted.

"So, your turn," Arya said.

Sandor let out an irritated groan at her insistently. "Girl, I'm thinking about getting rid of you,"  he said, although words about Imani threatened behind his lips, dancing vibrantly on his tongue and he was forced to swallow them back. Yet, he knew eventually she would make herself known on his lips and he would say something foolish...and weak.

 


	28. Chapter 28

Arya had seen his face when she asked him where he would go after he sold her to her aunt. Her glassy eyes caught the fleeting look across his hardened expression as he paused. Exhausted shadowy eyes glancing down to the dirt and grass for a moment before he spoke.  
“I might book passage across The Narrow Sea, fight as a sellsword...Second Sons could be...seems like a good fit for me.” Everything about him at that moment as they stood under the drab Riverlands sky told Arya that he was lying. And that his actual plan was something else, something he didn’t want to share with her.

They had come across a farmer and his daughter, that same night. Sandor was surprised at the Northern child's gift for lies as they knew they needed a roof over their heads for the night as a storm was approaching. He watched her as she told the skinny farmer a sad little tale about how he was her father, and her mother died while he was away fighting in the war. How he bled for House Tully, and how he was never the same after his beloved wife's death. A story that would pull at the heartstrings of most peasants and worked as the naive but good farmer let them stay for the night and feed them.

Yet, the niceties all ended when Arya had woken up to the sound of the farmers daughter, Sally screaming at the top of her high pitched, child lungs. Sandor had hit her father over his head and stole his silver. As Arya scampered out of the barn that they had slept in for the night she saw him walking away counting the pieces of silver in his large palm.

“You’re the worst shit in the Seven Kingdoms!” She screamed at him, throwing her arms up. The farmer had taken them in, he had fed them and given them a dry place to sleep. As a Northerner guest rights were one of their highest laws, and Arya was disgusted that even he would do such a thing.

“There’s plenty worse than me, I just understand the way things are...how many Starks they got to behead before you figure it out?"

The worst part that made her seethe was that The Hound was right. That poor farmer and his daughter were weak and they both would be dead come winter. He did understand how horrible the world was, a lesson she was learning from one of the people she hated the most in the world.

* * *

 

_“Joffrey, Cersei, Walder Fray, Maryn Trant, Tywin Lannister, The Red Woman, Baric Dondarrion, Thoros of Myr, Ilyn Payne, The Mountain….The Hound.”_

The first time he heard Arya say her prayer in full and knew what it meant he found himself angry, then slightly amused, then bemused when it came to his previous anger. He had heard bits of it before she drifted off to sleep in hushed whispers, but he didn’t know what it was until the little wolf told him finally in cricket chirping darkness. It was the list of everyone she intended to kill one day, and he was on it. Even though he had protected her sister in King’s Landing, even though he was the only one trying to get her to any of her family, even though he protected, and fed her, he was _still_ on it. The child was bent no forgiveness. Neither wolves nor hounds forget, and he understood the girl who was now little shadow.

The little wolf had even attempted to make good on her prayers promise when he found in the morning ‘practicing’ her sword work.  
Not the hack and slash force he was used to, but rather the girl was light on her feet flowing like water. Arya told him of the man that taught her, not her father but a Braavosi man named Syrio Forel, The First Sword to the Sealord of Braavos and that he was killed by Ser Maryn Trant in King's’ Landing. To which Sandor laughed, it humored him that she actually thought that the greatest swordsmen to ever lived were killed by Trant. Sandor knew that he could have killed Ser Maryn piss drunk with his hands tied behind his back if he had to.

“Let's see what he taught you, go on do it for your Braavosi friend.” The Hound said, watching as she twirled the little blade not breaking eye contact with him. “Dead like all the rest of your friends."

Sandor found himself shocked and then almost rageful when she went to stab him, actually making an attempt to kill him. The thin blade of Needle unable to pierce through his armor, no matter how hard her skinny little arms pushed. Instantly, Arya had known that she had made a mistake and a second later she found herself knocked to the dirt by a swift backhanded slap to her mouth. Her face stung, and she felt the burning slit at her lip. For a fleeting moment, she thought he would actually kill her, that she would meet the true horror of the Hound that she hated so much. Yet, Sandor picked up her sword and put it to her pale neck and only spoke.

"Your friend's dead and Meryn Trant's not. Cause Trant had armor and a big fucking sword." He said standing over the girl who had more bravery than sense, and to Arya’s undying surprise he gave her back the very sword she had just attempted to kill him with and walked away. Another hard lesson from a hound to a pup.

* * *

 

Spicy incense filled the candle orange air, unrolled parchment scrolls sat on the large, round Goldenwood table. “My princess there really isn’t much to report,” Her navel commander, Donho Quxdus said as he rubbed his neatly cut black beard as the ruler and her council sat for their meeting. Donho was once a pirate-lord and sellsail who had command of over fifty of his own ships. Years ago had come to find himself in the employ of the high family when the princess’s mother had demanded that the best sellsail in all of the Summer Isle be the one that took her on her trips around the world. On their many trips Donho protected Princess Sauda. When she died not long after giving birth to Asha he dedicated his fleet of hardened pirates to the Xe throne eventually gaining command over the whole Xe navy. Yet, even though he and his men were pirates they still followed the laws of their Gods. They did not rape, they did not pillage but to protect their spoils was never above them. The most known and unbreakable law of the Summer Isle pirates was simple, ‘take but never of home’ .

“Not much to report here that is true but there are other concerns. ” Imani said picking up one of the scrolls from in front of her that she already had read previously. “I hear that The Red Dragon has taken the city of Meereen for herself.”

"An honorable feat, the slave cities are disgusting.” Ekua chimed from her right, looking bored as she picked her nails.

“Is it true that she crucified one hundred and sixty-three of the Great Masters there?” Asha asked, from their rulers left. Rumors of the Targaryen's actions to the east had already spread across seas.

“Not for cruelty, in order to stop her from coming to their city the Great Masters crucified children and used them as signposts at mile along the road.” Imani told them, as she tossed that scroll back to the pile and picked up another. “And then when she got to the city she did the same thing to them.”

“Ah, and eye for an eye.” Shaman Mother Hoza Xomo breathed with her usual old rattle and a sagely nod of her head. “There may be hope for this young fire-breather yet.” The old woman tapped her nails on the hardwood table and wrinkled her barely there eyebrows. “Let us hope she does not become like her father. Someone like the Mad King with dragons?” The Shaman shook her head as she sat back in her chair. “That would be unfortunate…”

“It could happen, but some things are better than what is in power now.” Imani said, with a slight roll of her black eyes.

"The Little Lion has raised exportation taxes making it far more expensive for us to trade for goods we need.” Ekua noted, she had long been watching the change of exports and imports after the death of King Robert. Most merchants from the Isles had noticed that the expense for desperately needed castle forged steel was going up under the reign the Joffrey Baratheon who had inherited his “father's” debt but had no idea how to handle it. “Rumor has it that King’s Landing is only fortified to handle a five-year winte, and the other kingdoms might be even have less than that. It seems the only ones that might have enough grain for the chill would be the Reach."

Imani let out an almost petulant groan at her older sister's words knowing where the topic was going.

"If that is true there is a good chance that-"

“We’ll get refugees.” Imani uttered. It was a fact that during bad winters it wasn’t unheard of for Northerners to scramble south, most stopped at Dorne who only have enough food supply for a slim number of travelers who were looking for asylum. Yet, there were those that kept going, booking passage on ships to reach the Isles.

“Will they really come here?” Asha asked, sounding skeptical as usual.

“Aye, they will. Most children here that are half Westerosi were born here during winter because one of their parents fled the cold.” Ekua said.

“If the winter will be harsh one we will have to turn some of them away,” Donho said with a careless shrug. “None of the islands have the food nor the land do support a mass exodus.”

“I agree, luckily we're still in fall so we have a while to plan how we’ll handle their winter.” Suddenly the heavy wooden door opened, and they all looked over the left to see one of Imani’s servants. A skinny little boy with a hobble in his walk partly crippled with wary doe eyes. Like all the others, he was an orphan, yet unlike with guards the servants were always the ones that were called the weakest. Ones that would have a harder time doing farm work or fishing were usually the ones that found themselves in the servitude of the Xe's. The boy made his way over to Princess Imani, carrying a scroll in his bony, high knuckled fist.

“This came for you, Noysed Parpel.” He uttered in his shaky little voice high pitched, not daring to look the ruler in the eye. Imani smiled at the title that common folk called her. ‘High Panther’.

“What type of bird delivered this?”

“A black bird, a big one I haven't seen one like that before.” The child finally looking up at her. Asha and Ekua looked at each other at the mention of a raven. Imani took the scroll from him and then looked at the wax seal that bore no sigil.

“The black birds are called ravens,” Imani told the boy as she set the scroll down and looked at him. “Do you know where ravens hail from?” The child blinked down and shook his head. “They are from a place in north called Westeros. Now, whenever you get a scroll and it is carried by a raven you bring it to me right away, okay?”

“Aye, Noysed Parpel,” he nodded. Imani picked up the scroll again and casually tapped her chin with it.

“Now go on, child.” With his dismissal the young boy bowed and then hobbled back to the door, struggling with it for a second before he was able to push it open and slip out. With a slightly nervous sigh Imani broke the seal and unrolled the scroll. Her council members watched her lovely face as she read it over silently, black eyes scanning the ink. Her arched eyebrow twitched and raised, her dark eyes widened, her mouth slowly parted and then finally dropped open in shock. Imani blinked having to read the last sentence over again making sure she understood it correctly.

“What?” Both Asha and Ekua asked at the same time with a sisterly tandem. Imani glanced up and then and then back down to the parchment.

“...King Joffrey Baratheon is dead.” Imani told them. “He was killed at his wedding…”

“Oh, my Gods.” Ekua uttered, not in sympathy but rather in surprise.

“And..they have imprisoned Tyrion Lannister for his murder.”

“His uncle? The imp?” Donho Quxdus asked more taken aback by that information rather than the King of the Seven Kingdom's demise.

“Aye.” Imani nodded slowly, as she let the scroll go and it rerolled itself.

“Well, that was certainly a very interesting piece of information.” The old shaman spoke nonchalantly, as she tapped the table with her wrinkly hands.

“And now the rains weep o'er his halls. With no one there to hear. Yes, now the rains weep o'er his halls. And not a soul to hear.” Asha spoke the lyrics to the famed Lannister song; The Rains of Castamere, the very song the dead king once taught her when she was to be his bride. Yet now the young panther said the words with a mocking cut. “Some cat of another coat he was.”

 

* * *

 

When Sandor Clegane thought that things could not get any worse, they somehow did. He knew in his gut they shouldn’t have stopped when they saw the cottage, but they did anyway. Finding a dying man who had been stabbed, after giving him the mercy of death they were ambushed by two men. The first one who had attacked from behind bit him on his neck. Even though he was shocked by the burning in his skin he made short work of the man, killing him with a single slice of his blade.

Arya knew the second man, and once when she was attempting to make it to The Wall disguised as a boy he had threatened to fuck her bloody with a stick. So with one swift move of her sword she pierced his heart killing him dead. She was learning.

She sat by the fire cleaning off her sword, and every few seconds she would hear Sandor curse harshly.

“Rat cunt! Fucking whore!” he was attempting to sew up the bite wound with a needle and thread.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Arya told him, watching as he winced in pain and struggled to thread the needle through his dirty skin. “You need to burn away that horrible bit there.” Noticing how he curled his lip at even the idea of burning. “Other wise it's going to get infected and fester.”

Sandor ignored the nagging girl child and went on with trying to sew it up. He could feel hr staring at him from where she sat and out of the corner of his shadowy eyes he could see her face. Wrinkled brows, lips slightly parted in what could be taken for as concern for him.

“I know you don’t like fire but if you don’t do it right--”

“No fire.” Sandor cut quickly, stubborn as ever. Arya rolled her light eyes and got up, moving towards the fire pit and picking up a piece of wood that was burning at the end.

“It will only take a second.” she urged. “It won’t hurt that much.” As soon as Sandor saw that she was approaching him with the flame he lost it. Scrambling up to his feet as when he saw her approach him with the flame.

“No fire!” Sandor yelled, taking her by surprise. Arya stood there staring at him, her mouth parted in shock at how utterly terrified he was. How un-Hound like he was in that second. Arya gave up, dropping the wood back to the fire pit before she went back, shoulders slumped to where she had been sitting.

“Shut up about it….shut up about everything.” Sandor hissed. “Thanks to you I’m a walking bag of silver, anywhere the Lannister swords sway. Which is everywhere between where we are now and where we’re going!”

Arya didn't look at him, only going back to cleaning her thin bladed sword. She didn't utter a word as he blamed her for how bad things had gone, even though he had put himself in this position. He knew he had no one to blame but himself but still he hissed at the child as if she had asked for this.

“I should have never laid eyes on ya...no reward is with this much trouble…”

There was an odd string that came with his words that nipped at her. She didn’t know why she would even care what The Hound said about her, but she did.

Starting back at her with narrowed, exhausted eyes he watched as she cleaned her beloved Needle. “You say you’re brother gave you that sword….” he pointed at his disfiguring burns. “My brother gave me this.” Sandor shook his head, trying not to speak of it, but he failed the words already quivering to escape his lips. “It was just like you said a while back...he pressed me to the fire like I was a nice, juicy, mutton chop….”

“Why?” Arya questioned with the simplicity of a child, what would cause someone to do that their own flesh and blood?

“He thought I stole one of his toys, I didn’t steal it...I was just playing with it.”

At that moment Arya realized that this was not The Hound, not the nightmarish murderer who protected a horrible prince and king. She knew then that the man she was seeing underneath the malice and hate; Sandor Clegane. Shed of his dark armor and sword, sitting there bloodied, his eyes staring off in the green grey distance he looked human.

“The pain was bad...the smell was worse...but the worst thing was it was my brother that did it. And my father who protected him, told everyone my bedding caught fire…” Sandor confessed. Remembering the first and last time he had confined someone and told them the story. It had been with Imani years ago and his soul quivered when he recalled how she had cried for him.

 

_“Pretty ladies shouldn’t cry for violent hounds.”_

 

Slowly he looked back at the child, “And you think you’re on your own…” In that moment, Arya Stark understood him, understood his pain and how it twisted him into something broken and vile.

“Let me wash it out, and help you sew it up at least.” Arya offered sweetly, and with a kindness that had diminished during her own suffering but still there lurking the trauma. Sandor nodded and she picked up the water satchel and walked over to him. They were silent for a bit, as she cleaned out his bloody wound as best she could.

Swallowing he tried to bite back another ramble of words, feeling them creep to his tongue threatening to spill over like vomit. He closed his eyes, but it only made things worse. Seeing the girl who he done all of this for branded on the back of his eyelids. It felt as if Imani herself had reached down his throat and yanked out his feelings, making them known, gutting him.

“I should have left with her...”

“Who?” Arya asked as she went to slip the needle into his skin. Sandor groaned but not at the pain but rather thinking back to the very last time he uttered her name out loud. Since that morning when he broke her heart to protect her from his own brother. To his hate, he could still remember the expression on her face, as she cried and refused to say that she hated him. Those wet matted wet lashes and quivering full lips haunted him.

“Imani,” he whispered. The beat of the syllables of her name still a flame on his lips just as much it had been years ago.

_I-man-ee_

Arya instantly knew that this was the name of the woman who had written that scribbled and worn letter that he kept with him. He wanted to stop, yet he couldn’t as the sound of Imani’s hot giggle rattled in his mind. Delicate limbs as dark as the night sky, with the stars reflecting in her black eyes and smelling of a paradise he never deserved. Those horribly beautiful light tan palms that he would kill a thousand men to feel on his chest again.

“A few years ago, before everything went to hell. These three sisters from the Summer Isles came to King’s Landing.” Recalling the very day that he saw them for the first time in the throne room. “There was Ekua the older sister,” he only remembered the elder sister flashes, a sharp glance, and arching eyebrow as she glanced from her sister to him in clear disapproval. “Asha, the little lady the Lannisters hoped that she would marry Joffrey, obviously that didn’t happen…” The girl child with her snub nose and perceptive expression came to his memory, he could still her call him ‘Ser’ even though she knew he was no knight.

Arya studied his face, and there was a look that she would have never associated with him, pained longing. “And there was the middle sister... Imani.” The initial memory of Imani that came to the coils of his mind was her that night in the gardens dewy grass. Her feather decorated, braided hair a mess. The swells of her dark breasts bearing the faint intents of teeth, those marbled tan palms damp, as she watched in wonder as a firefly lit up as it crawled on her thin brown finger, the otherworldly light reflecting in her dark eyes. He could feel it even then, that glow in his spine as when he looked at her contemplating how such a beautiful creature even existed.

Arya threaded the needle through his skin, her pale little fingers working steadily. “What about her, who was she?” The little wolf asked, shivering slightly at a chilly wind that suddenly blew over them. Sandor swallowed back an almost painful lump in his throat.

“Just some girl I knew once.”

Arya shook her head, needing to know more. “What was she to you?” she knew that she wouldn’t get another chance know this story after this rare moment of vulnerability was over.

“I don’t know.” The words leaving his lips that could still feel her’s on them as if permanently scarred and blessed by her kiss. “I never understood…” Picking at his palm as Arya threaded the needle again. “She...she was the most pretty thing I had ever fucking laid eyes on."  
Sandor breathed recalling her biting her full lip and tilting her head with faux innocents, the ridges of her ribs, the tuft of wooly hair between thighs with skin as smooth as silk.

“I don’t understand why someone like that would even allow me to touch them.” His words were spilling over, years of hidden feelings seeping out like blood from an abscess and once they had started to escape he couldn’t stop them. All of that pain, all of that regret, all of that hurt that hung tied with golden thread to the name Imani Xe had found its way out from behind The Hounds armor.

Sandor Clegane had suffered his golden and dark darling. He had dreamt about her, missed her, killed her in his mind only to have her resurface at the sight of the little wolf's own sister’s tears and he had made it this long suffering Imani again in silence once more, an agonizing cycle. Yet, now it was as if she demanded to be known, unhappy with being a fixture in his mind, unsatisfied with being locked in a cage.

“She loved you?” Arya asked, in awe at the idea of this woman finding joy in his large murdering hands.

 

_“I have grown to love you, and even you can’t take that from me.”_

“What happened?”

“My fucking brother promised that one day he would rape her...she was leaving King's Landing, but I knew she would come back.” Sandor shook his head. "She was one of those girls, that believed in songs and stories." There was a quiver in his voice, but he choked it back.

 

_“You're a stupid girl, and I don’t want to see you again.”_

“I know my brother, he would make good on it. He would have beaten her and raped her just so I would know that he could. So, I made sure she wouldn’t want to see me again.” He confessed a disgusted shake of his head. "I told her I that I hated her.”

“Why didn’t you just tell her the truth?” Arya asked, sound rather bothered imagining how that woman felt when he snarled and grew nasty to her.

“What? Tell her that I’m scared of my older brother?” He snapped “What kind of fucking coward would I have been to her if I had said that?”

Arya said nothing, now almost done with closing the wound, but there was growing sadness that she felt for him. She could picture him hunched over reading that letter over and over and over again tormenting himself for how he treated someone that cared for him. This all was for her, that he was dragging himself on bloody hands and knees back to this glowing, blossoming fairytale of a woman. That he was going without sleep, shelter, and food for her. That he had kidnaped and killed all done for a chance to see her again. Arya had always heard that love was sweet and kind, something to pine over but hearing speak of his lost and distant happiness she realized how horrible love was, a rose bush prickling of a thousand, million thorns. That Sandor Clegane's care for this far off woman of summer filled him with regret making him hate others even more... and for that the little wolf pittied him.

 

_Cersei, Walder Fray, Maryn Trant, Tywin Lannister, The Red Woman, Baric Dondarrion, Thoros of Myr, Ilyn Payne, The Mountain.”_


	29. Chapter 29

_He saw her,  from behind, eyes intently studying her bare back that was visible due to the revealing cut of her gown. The indent of her spine, her shifting shoulder blades, the dimples right above her full, ripe ass. His gaze darkened as he watched Imani stumble down the dim hallway, holding up the bottom of her dark purple, silken gown as if she were studying where she would put her feet next._

_“God damn, it girl. What have I told you?” Sandor grunted as he walked up to her. “My lady,” he called and in a silly dramatic fashion Imani spun around on the heel of her slippered foot. As soon as he saw her face he realized that she was drunk, very drunk. Her eyes were narrowed to slivers as she put one of her fingers up to her mouth._

_“Shhhh! Not so loud,” she hushed and then she opened her swimming eyes to realize that it was him. “Ahhhh, it’s you. Sandor Clegane.” She oddly drug out the syllables of his name._

_'Sannnnndorrrr Cleeeeeganeeee'_

_“Fuck, seems you’ve been drinking a bit I_ see, _” He said, slightly amused by the sight of her. Imani let out an odd yet endearing gruff laugh as she flicked one of her thick braids out of her eye and then bobbed back from her heel to her tip toes repeatedly._

_“I was drinking and socializing with some high ladies. We had a very good time.” She turned back around and continued on her way down the hallway and Sandor walked next to her._

_“It seems you did, you strike me as the type that can get done with only three drinks.” He mocked. Imani snapped her head over to him, eyes once again narrowing. She jutted one delicate finger out and jabbed the ferocious hound in the chest._

_“I can drink,” Imani said matter of factly, scrunching her nose in a way that reminded him of a rabbit's innocent nose wiggle. Instantly he found it almost exhaustingly charming._

_“Aye, whatever you_ say. _” Sandor grunted, trying to bite back a laugh at how overly serious she was attempting to be, nothing about her could ever be threatening. She stared at him as if she was going to say something, but she only rolled her lovely eyes and continued down the hallway. Her body usually had a loose wiggliness to it, but even more when she was drunk. Moving as if her joints were well oiled and slick moving efforts like flowing water._

_Imani noticed his shadowy eyes on her so turned her head and peeked up at him from behind her long lashes. Her eyes slipping down his form then up again, pausing at his crotch before back to his face with a wicked smile on her lips._

_“If when we got back to my chamber I asked you come inside and fuck me like you usually do, would you?” Imani purred._

_“No. I wouldn’t.”  Sandor suddenly grabbed her by her arm and pulled her close, causing her to let out a dazed moan at his grip as they stood alone in the dim light. “I like for you to remember what I’ve done to you and where my mouth and cock have been,”_

_“Ah...that’s a good answer,” she breathed, standing up on her tiptoes, straining to reach his lips.  He bent down in order to give her that one satisfaction but was surprised when she reached up and yanked him closer by the straps of his armor. No amount of self-control could have_ stoped _the_ moan _that bubbled from the back of this throat as she slipped her tongue into his mouth. The taste of wine mixed with her spit was almost intoxicating. The kiss was all sloop, exactly what he would expect from her when she was drunk, all tongue and a bit of nipping teeth at his lip. Yet, Sandor didn’t mind in the least bit, enjoying the taste of her saliva in his mouth and he found himself reaching around to grab her ass, his hard cock poking hard at her belly. With a growl, he pulled away from her, a thin line of spit connected their mouths before he wiped it away._

_“I’m sorry--I--” Imani tripped over her words, her bottom lip trembling. “I just like it when you fuck me,” she whispered. Sandor felt his cheeks flush as her words._

_“Aye, and I like fucking you,” he said, still serious on holding true to his words on not bedding her that night. He had seen plenty of times the things that foul men did with_ limp _, drunk girls. Yet, even though Imani was panting for him there was a certain something about her droopy languidness and exhausted eyes that made him queasy and uncomfortable. When he was drunk he was lucid but not really ‘there’ it was the same for her...it felt far too close to dubious. His hand would just have to suffice for the night, and the next day when she was bright eyed and bushy tailed he would fuck her sore when she asked for it._

_Imani looked down and backed away from him, suddenly feeling as if the corridor was tilting. “Oh…” she put her head in her hands. “The hallway is spinning…”_

_Sandor shrugged, “You might have to vomit.” he said, speaking of the disgusting act casually._

_“No--I--I’m just very--oh---” Imani didn’t finish her sentence, swallowing back a bit of bile before her vision went blurry and she lost her balance._

_Sandor let out a groan as he caught her in his arm. “Goddamn it, girl,” He whispered to himself as he picked her fainted limp body and carried her to her chambers._

_He pushed open the door to her quarters, kicking it closed with the heel of his boot before he brought Imani over to her bed. As soon as he went to lay her down, her hands reached up and she as if reacting in a dream, wrapped her arms around his thick neck._

_“No.” Imani uttered, and for a moment he thought she had actually come to. Yet when he glanced at the side of her face he found her eyes still closed, face blank, still lost to the world at that moment. Sandor managed to sit her down on the bed, her face resting against his metal-studded leather armor. Again her hands were grabbing at him, much like a needy, half sleep child. “Please don’t….please stay…” she muttered, giving him pause. “Sandor..please,” her unconscious words were like scarpered needles to him. Such sweet whispers digging into his flesh more than any insult could ever._

_He didn’t know what to do with the_ sighs _leaving the lips of the most beautiful creature his horrible eyes had ever seen. A hidden part of his soul knew that within the darkness of her subconsciousness she wasn’t saying 'stay for the night' but rather something deeper. To know that Imani Xe, this golden child of summer wanted him was the most blessed yet, the most damning thing. For she could never actually be his. A violent_ hound _could never have a beauty such as her for all time, such things were known.  Sandor's large hand caressed her warm  bareback, hating the feeling that she made him suffer. For she, much like that auburn beauty from his youth Imani was a moment, a fleeting second in time that would scar him for the rest of his life and he knew it and she didn't._

_He choked back the odd emotion at the back of his throat and laid her down slowly, propping her head up with the thick pillows, so if she did vomit he wouldn't choke on it in her sleep. Clenching his jaw, Sandor lifted one of her legs up, removing her tiny detailed slipper from her foot and then he removed the other one as well. Lowering his brow, he found himself  disturbed at how even the bones of her ankles and the tendons at her heels were beautiful to him. He clenched his fist, his arm shaking slightly with an odd mix of confusion and fear. His shadowy eyes studied her motionless body, she looked as if a doll or a painting, terrifyingly beautiful to him.  Slowly he removed one of his worn leather gloves and gently touched the tips of his fingers to her soft lips._

_He had been inside of her, tasted her, and she had tasted him as well. But the simple act of touching her gently while she was gone behind her lids was far more intimate than anything before. A gentle action that Imani would never realize took place and that Sandor would try to forget yet never fully could. Haunted by feeling of her soft lips on his_ fingertips _, at the moment he could fathom his feelings for her._

* * *

 

“So, who do you think killed Joffrey?” Arya asked as they walked through the dark stone canyon. They were almost there, almost to the Bloody Gate in the Vale, past it was the seat of House Arryn, the Eyrie They knew that Joffrey was dead, most of the country knew it by now, and the only thing the girl child could even blab about was either the dead young king, or asking more questions regarding Imani. Who Arya had started to refer to as 'your lady' to Sandor.

“How would I bloody know?” He asked as they walked. His body felt excluded, and all he wanted to do was get the child to her aunt, get his gold and maybe have a good night's rest. The bite at his neck was bothering him, itching and oozing with blood through the stitches, but it was nothing a maester couldn’t fix.

“Was he always so horrible?” Arya asked, looking up at him the sun that was cutting through the gray clouds causing her to squint her eyes.

“Actually, no,” He said surprising her. “When he was just a  child he wasn't mad yet, but he was never fully right in the head.” It was an odd statement to make but a true one. Sandor remembered how the boy had been when he was a wee child, his ‘father’ Robert was never there always fuckign whores and drinking. He knew that back then Joffrey saw him as something of a replacement for his father.

There was one sharp memory of the golden haired boy that stood out to him. He remembered Joffrey crying one day, his face red and runny nose. King Robert had slapped the taste out of his mouth for killing a pregnant cat that resided in the kitchens. Through his wet faced tears, he sputtered and told Sandor that he just wanted to see the kittens so he the mama cat open, not understanding what he was doing. He showed the kittens to his father, and the king in his disgust at his boy's actions slapped him so hard that he knocked out two of his baby teeth. The Hound hadn't said anything as the wee prince of five name days old crawled into his lap and cried. Sandor had brushed the whole thing off as a child not understanding violent actions but as he grew older it was obvious that something was very wrong with Joffrey Baratheon.

“Being sick in the head is what happens when you’re uncle is also your real father.” Sandor shrugged.

“Is that _really_ true?”

“Aye, girl it is. There’s a reason sister wiving is outlawed,” he told her as they continued on.

“So….” Arya started gaining an obviously annoyed groan from Sandor. He knew the conversation was about to change to Imani next. The girl had insisted on knowing details about the summer girl, her apprentice had been the subject of multiple questions the previous night. To hopefully shut her up Sandor had done his best to describe her but he was never one with words. Arya now had a partial mental picture of the mysterious woman that she was fascinated by. The Hound had used descriptions that she had never expected to leave his terrible, twisted mouth such as, <i>glowing dark skin, fragile limbed, braided and raven hair of cashmere.</i> When he talked about his distant Imani’s personally he had only said that she laughed more than anyone that he ever meet before and that somehow when he was around her he hated the world a little less. Arya imagined her in slices of light by his descriptions, dressed in bright colors, dripping in gold and skin always radiating a long summer heat. A person who was opposite of his dark, violent hate. “....What are you going to do when you get south?”

“What the hell do you think I’m going to do?”

“Well, of course, you're going to find your lady, but don’t you ever worry?” Arya asked, not fully understanding his plan. It seemed he truly thought that after so long he would just show up and expect her to welcome him back into her bed. “Women don’t forget.”

Sandor clenched his teeth at words, knowing that they did hold weight and she might be right. He had pondered what would happen if he made it all that way to find her with a man by her side. If that was true he knew The Hound would take over, rage, regret, and sorrow mixing and collimating in violence towards any man that possibly now shared her bed. For he would always be the terror and he could never change that.

* * *

They had finally made it, he didn’t think they would, but there it was The Bloody Gate the only way to the Eyrie was through it without climbing the vertical walls of the high, sharp canyon. He was done, he could sell the child, she would be safe there and he would be on his way.

“Who could pass The Bloody Gate?” One of the knights asked at their approach.

“The bloody Hound, Sandor Clegane” he quipped. “And his…” he looked down at Arya who stood next to him and a small smile came to the corner of his lips. “...traveling companion, Arya Stark; niece of your lady Lysa Arryn.” He told the guard, there was a pause and the knight looked down before speaking.

“Then I offer you my condolences…Lady Arryn died.....” he told them and it took Sandor a second to fully grasp what the guard had just said to them. “...three days ago.” There was an another pause this one longer and more painful as him Arya just stood there momentarily stunned by the information. Before he could even think of words to say, Arya suddenly burst into a fit of giggles. Loud girlish giggles that filled the canyon around them. Her odd reaction took the knights and Sandor by surprise. There was nothing she could do but laugh at her horrible misfortune. It was the same things over again, her being just out of reach of family. The same as last time, they had been right there and before she could see them they were dead.  Arya had no more tears, only laughter at how fucked they both were now. She was doubled over, her gut hurting from her laughs, tears pooling her eyes and when she looked up at Sandor and saw his still stunned face she laughed even harder.

“Fuck,” the simple, single epithet summing up his every feeling at that moment. There was nowhere to go but back, and as they turned around they didn't know that there was still family, even closer than dead Lysa Aryan had been. For Arya nor The Hound knew that Sansa Stark had fled kings landing and was passed that Bloody Gate alive, well and in the Eyrie.


	30. Chapter 30

Little Mereya put her thumb in her mouth as she looked up at the ornate Goldenwood dresser in front of her. The smooth wooden drawers had been carved to have images of dancing women and golden eyed panthers detailed into it, yet the child's attention wasn’t on the artwork but rather what sat on top. She had always been fascinated by the steel helm that decorated her mother’s chambers, sitting there as if part of an alter. The curious child had asked her mother time and time again why she had a dog’s head in her room, to which Mereya was always told ‘I will tell you about it when you are older.’ The young child was smart, sometimes too sharp for her own good and had noticed that no one but her mother touched the snarling beast. The servant always cleaned around it and even seemed scared of it, cleaning quickly around it making sure they didn't so much as bump into it.

Once sweet, little Mereya  asked her aunt Asha about the steel beast to which she had been told a fanciful tale.

_There once was a great and powerful beast made of gray steel who was from far across the world. This beast loved your mother once and she loved him back even though his claws dripped with blood. Yet, they could not stay together. For it is known that monsters and princesses can not be together So, the hound let your mother go, and in her sadness she stole one of his many faces. She keeps it, hoping that one day he will come searching it and by then maybe the Gods will excuse their love._

She  knew that her father was from across the blue sparkling sea as well, so in her childlike mind she came to the conclusion that people on the other side of the world were actually these hound creatures, made of actual metal. Her brain came up with an almost nightmarish image of the monster who once had the snarling face. Bigger than any man alive, standing on haunches, it’s fur made bristling steel, an odd creature that couldn’t change its face like people could so it wore masks to show expressions. To the imaginative child, the story wasn’t a fantasy but a truth.

The child grabbed a stool and drug it across the floor closer to the dresser. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand before she climbed up awkwardly, almost slipping off, but she let out a small, determined grunt. Even though she stood on the stool she still had to rise up on her bare tiptoes to be eye level with the snarling dog. The blacked out eyes, frightened the child at first causing her gasp as if it would suddenly come alive, but nothing happened. Mereya took a deep breath before raising, one shaking, tiny hand and lowering it down on the snout. Her small, warm fingers grazing the smooth, cold steel. She narrowed her shadowy eyes and stared back at the ominous metal which she had fully convinced herself was one of the many faces of her father.

“Where are you?” the child asked as if he would hear her from across the wide world. Unknown to Mereya, her mother stood in the doorway of her chamber and heard her child's question.  The agony that the words brought with it was like rip at her gut, the simple fact that her daughter would possibly grow up without ever seeing her father or ever knowing him, the pain she felt in her chest at that moment was not a sharp agony but a dull, deep quivering one. One that would last the rest of her life wondering what could have been.

* * *

Arya's ghostly eyes stared at him, they had stopped for a while and she was sure that he actually didn’t even know where they were going now. He sat on a boulder, broad shoulders slumped, rubbing his forehead. “I need a moment, girl,” Sandor said, not looking up at her. Arya wrinkled her brow, he was panting and sweating even though it was rather chilly outside. He blinked with surprise when Arya suddenly reached out, her little hand pulling down his gorget to see the bite wound at his neck.

“Oh, Gods.” she whispered, it was black and festering.

“You were right,” he said, “I should have let you burn it.” He yanked away from her hands and looked down. “You must love being right, don’t you?”

Arya sighed and shook her head, “No, not about that.”

“Why the fuck would you even care? I’m on your little list, aren't I?” he snapped.

“Not anymore.” The child said to him and he blinked up at her.

“Why?” He was honestly curious as to what event had made her change her mind on vengeance. Yet, the little wolf only petulantly shrugged her shoulders at him and went to walk away.

“I’m going to find firewood, we should camp here for the night,” she turned and looked at the ill dog, “You should get some rest.”

Sandor let out a chuckle and shook his head, “Oh, the little lady thinks she runs things now, is that it?”

“Do you have a better idea?” Arya snapped, folding her arms. Sandor let out a huff and reluctantly shook his head, she was right he had no more to give that day. “In the morning we’ll keep going.” Arya looked around, “We have to be close to a holdfast or at least a village, we’ll find a maester to take care of that and then we’ll go, and when we get there you’re her problem.” Arya cut before she walked away to gather firewood.

* * *

They didn’t eat that night, and Arya sighed as her gut rumbled in protest, but Sandor seemed to care farless. He was sitting there, the old folded piece of parchment in his large hands. He was reading the few, scribbled girlish lines over and over again, his eyes studying how her delicate hand once spelled words that were a second language to her. He recalled that very night there in King’s Landing right off of Blackwater Bay, the rocky hidden area only accessible by the crumbling stone stairs.  Vividly he could  recall the sudden shock when she bit his lip that night almost drawing blood. How she pulled away and surveyed his reaction with a wicked hit of a smile and narrowed ebony eyes. He thought about how she looked afterward, a pleased post-coital smile on her lips as she laid on the stone ground, naked looking up to the night sky that she resembled.  

“You’re just torturing yourself.” Arya’s young voice said snapping him out of his Imani filled reverie. There was a thick silence for a moment and Arya rolled over and stared at him from across the dying fire; watching as he slowly shook his head.

“Sometimes, I’m not sure if some of my throughs of her are real or if I made them up,” he whispered lowly, sounding wounded and exhausted in every way.  Arya sat up, she knew that feeling; when things happen so fast you’re not sure if they are memories or vivid hallucinations. Everything gets muddy and confused through all of the hurt and the mind can create moments to make things seem better. Sandor slumped his shoulders and let out a sigh. He knew as soon as he mentioned Imani he wouldn’t be able to stop, he wouldn’t be able to put her back into the cage that he had built for her in his mind. The secret hidden place, where he suffered and remembered her alone. “Fuck,” he grumbled, wiping the sweat from his forehead before speaking again. “After she left it was as if I killed her, or as if she never existed the first fucking place.” he shook his head at how absurd he must have sounded to the child.

He knew that he had done it as if he had strangled the life out of what was Imani Xe and buried her with every memory he had of her. Normal people didn’t do that, normal men couldn’t erase a woman who they had experienced such lust for no matter how horrible things ended up being. Yet, normal people didn’t suffer beatings at a young age. Normal people didn't know the pain of having one's face pressed to a fire, being forced to smell their own roasting flesh.  Normal people had parents that cared for them and didn’t have to go through life knowing that their monster of a brother had raped and killed their own sister. Sandor Clegane wasn’t normal, he had had never been. For he was twisted, rotted and ruined.  

“It wasn’t until that day in the throne room that I remembered her.” Sandor paused and chuckled bitterly. “ It was because your fucking sister…”

Arya wrinkled her brow and leaned forward, “What? What does Sansa have to do with this?”

“They look the same..." he rubbed his face with his large, clammy palm "When they cry,” he uttered, glancing back down at the worn letter. “Joffrey was humiliating your sister in front of court as, he loved to do. He ordered Maryn Trant to beat her and rip her gown off of her.”

Arya clenched her teeth as she listened, she didn’t think it was possible for her to hate Ser Maryn Trant more than she did, but somehow the peak for her rage had been raised. “She was on her knees crying, then she looked up at me and...” His words got lost in his throat for a moment recalling the twitching moist lips, the wet face, of the other Stark sister as she tried her best to cover herself from the onlookers. “She had the same fucking expression that Imani had when I saw her last.” The letter slipped from his hand, and he let out an almost pained groan he closed his eyes, Arya couldn't tell if he was in physical or emotional pain, more than likely he was suffering from both. “I hated your sister for who she made remember, she had no idea what she did to me. They are so much alike and it fucking killed me."

Arya, wrinkled her brow and looked down, she hadn't expected any of this. She had no idea he had any kind of care for her sister at all, yet there he sat talking about the elder Stark daughter who mirrored his lost lady. “Everyday I had to see her and every fucking day I had to be reminded of what I did to the only person that ever gave a shit about me," He said, grinding his teeth to stop the painful prick of warm tears in his eyes. “First the panther sisters then the wolf sisters…” Sandor picked up the letter and gently folded it. “What is with me and pretty highborn girls?” It wasn't really a question for anyone, more of a note on how fucked his life was.

He slipped the folded letter under his gorget and Arya wondered if he was purposely keeping it close.

* * *

_The halls of the Red Keep kept silent of all its secrets at night. It was dim and lonely and he walked down the corridor on his way to his chambers for the night, but he stopped when his ears pricked up to the sound of a girl child's a cough.  He looked to his right to realize that the sound was coming from the littlest Xe’s chambers, he would have walked away, but he heard the small almost_ pained _a cough again that halted him in mid-step. There was an overwhelming feeling that came over him that he could not describe, something protective and almost paternal._

_With an annoyed grunt, he slowly pushed open the door, finding the girl curled up in her bed. Asha appeared to be younger than what she actually was. All of the Xe sisters had a far more youthful appearance to them than women and girls of their same age in Westeros. There was an old fable that said that the waters surrounding the Summer Islands were enchanted and made all that bathed in them seem younger. Obviously a children's story, that was far from being fact, yet no one could explain why Summer Islanders always seemed younger than their name days suggested._

_Sandor looked at the sleeping girl as she sniffled, laying curled up as if she were still in her late mother's womb. When awake she had the eyes of a grown woman, sharp and watchful. She studied every move people made around her, and reacted accordingly. He knew from what her sister had told him that Asha was the plotter, the little schemer who could read people like an open book. Something that he heard their late mother was very mastered at as well._

_Yet, in sleep with her observant eyes closed she was nothing more than a child. A child who might one day be Joffrey’s bride, if she was to be so unlucky to wed the prince. Sandor knew there would be a day when he would be the only thing standing between Joffrey's insanity and her.  Let another girl suffer the monstrous prince, anyone but his Imani’s own sister. Softy, he shut the door and continued down the silent hallway; passing by the door that kept the cold elder sister whom he had no connection to. He found Ekua to be beautiful, the attractiveness of her regal and sharp featured face could not be denied, but her dark eyes always looked at him with unease and disapproval._

_Lastly, he came to the door of the middle sister. He was more than aware that he should keep walking, yet his mind flickered and shook with thoughts of her, and his body felt as if it was bring pulled and dared to enter. Licking his lips he put his hand on the door handle and painstakingly slow pushed it open. It was clear by the lack of bolted doors that the Summer Isle Xe’s didn’t really think much about how dangerous King’s Landing actually was._

_The room was dim, only the moonlight shined in from the far wall; illuminating the bed in which she slept, everything else encased in harsh shadow. To his surprise she wasn’t naked, but rather laid on her back dressed in a white, silk chemise; the fabric in the dark gave her an otherworldly glow. Sandor closed the door and bolted it, yet she did not stir at the sound of his armor as he moved closer to he recumbent dark, dreaming body. She had one limp hand resting on her slowing rising and falling chest, her lips slightly parted. He knew that if he removed his armor and got in bed with her she wouldn’t be bothered at all, and would most likely_ peek _one dark eye open to see him before sighing in that dangerously dreamy way before she would over on her side and nuzzle her face into his chest._

 _The thin silk that covered her body caused the outlines of her nipples to peek from behind the fabric. Imani wiggled, even though she was still a prisoner to her dreams, eyes flickering and fluttering behind her thin lids. The beast inside of him was still, not snarling nor_ panting _with obscene thoughts for her. Instead at that moment there was the simplest form of tenderness for her at that moment, although his ruined mouth would never utter such a thing to her to hear. He leaned down, gently brushing away one of the neat braids that dangled in her face. Sandor meant to press his almost always frowning lips to her soft temple but stopped just shy of the excruciatingly intimate contact with her. His deep, hot breath heating her smooth flesh under his lips._

_“Did you come to tell me goodnight?” Imani’s sudden voice surprised him when she turned her head and looked up him. “Or did you come to do something nasty to me?” Her indolent, sleepy voice caused a deep throb to quiver in his loins._

_“You need to learn how to bolt your door, my lady,” he said as Imani tilted her head back, exposing the delicate lines of her neck to him._

_“Mmm, you didn’t answer my question. Clegane…” she whispered through the_ blue tinged _darkness, as she pulled up the bottom of her silken chemise, exposing her smooth, brown legs to his shadowy eyes; and he could almost feel the beast inside him stir awake. Imani didn’t give him a chance to answer before she pressed her soft lips against his, her lazy tongue slipping into his mouth. The bed creaked with his weight as he got on top of her and she kissed him deeper. He liked the slow fluttering feeling of her tongue on his, that were interspersed with her usual more fervent kiss._

_In drowsy motions, Imani bucked her hips against his crotch, moaning at the feeling of his stiffening cock brushing up against her slit. He yanked away, his face burning with heat as he removed the sword on his back and the other smaller one from his side._

_“Take off your armor,” Imani_ panted _, wearing a determined expression as she tugged at his steel vambraces. “I want you naked."_

_Sandor only chuckled in such a way that told her she wouldn’t be getting what she wanted._

_“You’re a very greedy little thing when you want my cock, aren't you?” He said, hands reaching for the top of her chemise, in one strong tug he yanked the fabric apart with a loud ripping noise. Greedily he grabbed her tits, pinching and kneading them with his large hands, enjoying how she writhed and whimpered at his touch._

_“Fuck me,” Imani demanded, her thin fingers reaching for the laces of his breeches. He moved lower, putting one of her tits in his mouth and flicked his tongue, causing Imani to whine and grip the bed sheets. One of his large hands slipped between her hot thighs, fingers brushing past the wooly coil of hair to find the wet, throbbing hollow._

_“You’re so slick,” he whispered before focusing his attention on her unkissed breast. Imani moaned as he worked two fingers inside of her, forcing her to arch her back and buck against his palm. He touched the hidden spot inside of her, that place he didn’t know existed until taught him how to reach it._

_“Please-I want you to put it inside of me,” Imani begged, feeling him laugh against her skin. Sandor pulled away from her tit and smirked._

_“Tell me you want my cock,” his fingers still working inside of her cunt._

_“I want your cock, Clegane…”Imani whispered, before licking her full lips. “I want it in my tight, wet cunny.”_

_“Fuck..” he hissed, as he sat up and undid the laces of his breeches quickly. Such a pretty mouth spilling with obscene words never ceased to make his cock quiver. With one quick motion, he slammed into her, filling her to the hilt with a single thrust. A yelp almost came from her lips, but Sandor clasped his palm over her mouth just before she cry out._

_“Shhh, my lady,” he hushed, in her ear as he started to thrust, of her twitching twat. Sandor let her face go and rested his hands against the wooden headboard of the bed as he slammed in and out of her. He pushed her legs apart_ splaying _her wide so he could watch his cock slip in and out of pink willing cunt. Imani let out a whimper when he suddenly pulled out of her. Sandor laid on his side and then yanked her towards him, her back to his chest as he stuffed his cock back inside of her needy cunt._

_“Part these fucking thighs,” he growled, pushing one of her legs up. Imani bit her lips as he started to stroke in and out roughly. One of Sandor’s wandering hands slipped between her legs, rubbing the swollen, little bud right above her drooling slit._

_“Ah! Wait--that feels too good-- I can’t.” Imani sputtered trying to push his hand away, but he only chuckled darkly in her ear._

_“There is so such thing as too good, my lady,” Sandor whispered, as Imani’s toes curled into the bedsheets. He ran his tongue along her damp, salty-sweet neck, as she wiggled and writhed against him._

_“Come on,” he hissed knowing that she was close by her ragged and short quivering breaths. Imani clawed at the sheets and screamed into the pillow as her whole body convulsed and shivered. He didn't stop, his hands still rubbing his cock still slipping in and out of her.  There was another unintelligible_ yelp _from Imani as her cunt convulsed him for a second time._

_“F--Fuck!” Sandor hissed hotly in her ear before he quickly pulled out quickly and came against her right ass cheek. He held her in place against him until he crushed out the final throb of pleasure, leaving her ass a sticky mess with his seed. After a moment of savoring the hazy afterglow, Sandor cupped Imani’s chin but felt that her face was wet. Tilting her head towards him he found her eyes pink and glittering with salty tears. Instantly his mind went to all of the ways he possibly hurt her. Her delicate bones could be like sticks to his horrible strength and the idea of even twisting her knobby wrists made his heart rot. Yet, she suddenly flipped over and pressed her face against his cold armor and trembled with a sob._

_“Did I hurt you?” he asked, the tone of worry in his voice surprised him._

_“No-No you didn’t hurt me...it felt really good.” Imani sniffed and blinked up at him._

_“Well, then why are you crying?”_

_Her bottom lip quivered as if she was had an answer, but she only girlishly smiled and shook her head sweetly. “I don’t know.”_

_Sandor knew it was a lie, but he didn’t search for a deeper answer from her torrent of tears._

_Yet, years later he understood that her sobs broken from the realization that she cared for him far more than she might have ever planned on._

 


	31. Chapter 31

_A warm night breeze breathed through the open window and Sandor’s shadowy eyes stared at her as she sat on the large stone window ledge. Her attention was turned towards the night, watching the candle lights of the rest of the city as they flickered orange and yellow.  Imani's naked, dark skin was slightly dewy with a sheen of salty sweat which he had tasted not even a new minutes before when he ran his tongue along her neck as he took her from behind. During that hissing pleasure, Imani had stolen what felt like every drop of his seed, leaving him in her chamber bed boneless and dazed. Yet, as he looked at her, he could feel his cock tingle and yearn for more. So self-indulgent, so greedy._

_Imani’s hand held on to the freshly cut mango, in a messy but charming way she nibbled on the fruit, the juice running down her chin and dripping onto her bare chest. Suddenly, she blinked over to him as he lay there, her dark eyes trailing from his face down the length of his large body and then back up again. Sandor knew she was about to ask him something, her inquisitive look was always obvious and easy to pick up on.  The girl could not hide her emotions or expressions very well._

_“How old were you when you first had a woman?” she asked before taking another slurping bite of the fruit, the sound of it made his mouth water._

_Sandor snickered slightly at the question, “I was a young man, fifteen or sixteen.” Most boys started touching girls younger than that, but his mangled half face didn’t make things easy for him. Pretty girls were scared of his burns and his last name, they knew of his brother and thought he would be the same type of monster._

_“Who was she?” Imani asked, slipping off of the window ledge before she strolled back over to him, her fingers sticky with the fruit juice and he wanted to suck them clean._

_“A farmer's daughter,” he paused for a moment, he actually never talked to anyone about Evelyn, she had always been one of his secrets. “Her name was Evelyn, she took me into  a barn one day and she fucked me.” His mind recalled that day, it had been in the short spring when the Westerland grass was starting to finally grow green again. Her father’s farm was right outside of Clegane’s Keep and he grew up knowing the girl, yet he only saw her when Gregor was away, a well-placed fear on her part. That day while out riding he had seen her, her pale arms scratched up as she carried bundles of hay.  In rare politeness, Sandor had asked her if she needed help, and the girl looked at him and with a smile simply said ‘Aye’. When they got to the barn Evelyn had paused and stared at him with her sky blue eyes and before he realized it she had pushed him down onto the hay covered floor and was on top of him. Her long red hair tickling his face as she kissed him, hands yanking at his trousers._

_“I’ve always fancied you, Sandor.”_

_He would never forget that day, the smell of hair, the feel of her freckled, milky skin under his shaking, sweating palms and how foolish he was to think he would actually marry her one day._

_“What happened to her?” Imani asked softly before she sat on the bed,  carelessly wiping her hand on the bed sheets before she took another bite of the fruit._

_“She died not even three weeks later of fever,” he said with a shrug of his broad shoulders. Imani looked down and shook her head._

_“I’m sorry,” she uttered sweetly. Sandor stared at her and by the wrinkle of her brow she seemed genuinely sympathetic about the loss of that long gone beautiful bird. That was something he didn’t understand about her, how she could feel so deeply of other people’s pains. When he had told her how he got his burns Imani cried tears for him. He had never received such compassion in all of his bitter, broken life._

_“So, who was the man to take you the first time?” he asked, Imani looked up at him and a surprisingly bashful smile came to her sticky lips. “I bet he was some handsome fuck with a nice smile wasn’t he?” Sandor could picture such a young man, dark, lean, and ‘pretty’. Imani laughed and shook her head._

_“I have been with men like that, but my first wasn’t a man at all.”_

_Sandor perked up at her words and his brows raised in titillating interest. “Oh?” he asked, idly grabbing his cock under the bedsheets._

_“Aye, her name was_ Chasal _," Imani picked at her palm feeling her face grow hot with the memory of her very first sexual encounter. “She was one of my servant girls and was a bit older than me. It wasn't long after I had flowered. I knew she liked girls...and one day I asked for her to show me and she did."_

_Sandor bit his bottom lip, his cock hardening in his grip at the idea of her being touched by a woman. “The first time with a man wasn’t long after that, yet he was rather lackluster at the deed.” she shrugged taking the last bite of the mango. Sandor let out a deep chuckle before reaching out and grabbing Imani by her thin arm. She made a high-pitched yelping noise as he yanked her closer to him. With one large hand on the back of her head, he brought her lips to his; tasting the sweet stickiness of the fruit in her saliva. Imani stroked her palm over his cock and he rocked his in hips at the feeling._

_“You’re rock hard again," she said into his mouth as she grabbed his rod over the sheets and stroked him. His lips twitched and he tilted his head back, a drop of pre-seed leaking from the tip causing a wet drop to from under the sheet where it touched his cock. Sandor had never thought he would feel such utter unspeakable passion in all of his life, but Imani coaxed feelings out of him that he didn’t think he had the ability to possess. That syrupy, hot concupiscence._

_With gritted teeth and a growl, he forced her to turn around and straddle his large lap. Imani moaned feeling him lick along her shoulder blade; he put one hand around her neck to hold her in place against him while the other yanked the sheet down. His cock slipped along the folds of her wet cunt before he maneuvered it inside of her._

_“Ah--!” Imani yelped,_ her _just used cunt slightly aching from the feeling he had given her earlier. Clawing at his  muscular thighs she moaned as he started to thrust up inside of her._

_“Fuck--do you know how good you feel?” Sandor whispered hotly against her skin. “Your holes are the best thing’s I’ve ever fucking felt.”_

“Ahhh--you're _so lewd,” Imani said, loving his disgusting words. His fingers rubbed the swollen nub between her legs, causing her to buck and whimper sweetly. Her gold jewelry chimed with each stroke he gave and the whites of her eyes flickered as they rolled back into her head. “Oh--I wish you could finish inside of me.”_

_“You better not--ah--better not say that to me, my lady.” Sandor rasped in her ear. He wanted that too, he wanted to fill her with his seed, fuck a bastard son into her belly, a living keepsake of when The Hound was deep inside of the most beautiful of Summer Island girls. Imani moaned out his name as her muscles tensed and her back arched._

_“That’s it, come,” he could feel her start to quiver around him. “Finish from my cock.” Sandor buried his face in the crook of her neck, feeling her throbbing pulse as she clawed at his thighs, a line of spit dripping from her lips as she lost her mind. With desperate choking noises, her eyelids flickered as she came hard. Sandor quickly pulled out of her, his twitching cock pointing upwards towards her belly as he cursed and came. Shooting his white, warm seed on to her tensing abdomen. In those sharp seconds of release, Sandor forgot every hate he had every inch of his body filled with that haze, warm glow.  They stayed there like that for a few moments trying to catch their breath, hearts pointing and eyes heavy._

_“Did you love her?” Imani asked, her question slow like honey._

_“What?”_

_“Evelyn, did you love her?”_

_He blinked at her curious words and he came to a dim and sad realization. “I don’t know what that feels like.”_

* * *

 

The girl was talking to someone in the foggy morning, and he thought it sounded like a woman's voice. Stumbling from behind the huge boulder, he realized that he was far sicker than he had been the night before. He was sweating, and his insides felt slick and oily. With a sneer, he looked up and through the greasy strands of his hair he saw a woman. She was huge, bigger than any lady he had ever seen before, with short pale blonde hair dressed in blue armor.

“Seven blessings,” she smiled. “I’m Brienne of Tarth,”  she nodded over to what he assumed was her squire although women could not be actual knights. “And this is Podrick Payne.”

The boy just stared directly at him as he slowly dropped the saddlebags that he was carrying from his shoulders. Sandor looked at Brienne and then to her squire, he was in no mood to deal with anyone other than the girl he had to care for.

“You want something?” he asked, narrowing his shadowy eyes at them.

“That’s Sandor Clegane...The Hound.” The Payne boy said, and Sandor's lip curled when he saw the woman’s expression change, the smile slipping off of her hard face. Her blue eyes blinked as she looked back over to Arya who had cautiously moved to beside Sandor, her grubby little hands holding on to her skinny sword just in case.

“You’re Arya Stark.” Brienne uttered.

Sandor’s scowl grew deeper and he put his hand on his sword. “I asked you if you wanted something.” His mind raced through possibilities. Were they there for him? Or had the Lannisters sent someone to collect Arya? It was possible that they had got wind of her being still alive and with him. If so he Lannisters could get the both of them at once. They would behead him and he knew that they would do far worse to her

“I swore to your mother I would bring you home to her,” Brienne said she had to be lying.

“My mother's dead.” Arya spoke, and Sandor wished she would back up and get behind him in case this woman tried something.

“I know, I wish I could have been there to protect her.”

His skeptical eyes studied her, her armor was impeccable, it had to have been made custom, women couldn’t wear men's armor correctly as there would be gaps in odd places. She had a grinding sword at her hip and it seemed far too lavish of a weapon for a common to own, let alone for some woman to have.

“You’re not a Northerner,” Arya said her face twisting in that childish yet judgemental way.

“No, but I swore a sacred vow to protect her.”

Arya stared at her with those glassy, chilly eyes and said, “Why didn’t you?” her words like tiny blades directed at the woman who had come out of nowhere. Brienne blinked at the girls coldness and looked down as if she had been just smacked across the face.

“She commanded me to take Jamie Lannister back to King’s Landing.” Any scrap of trust Sandor could have had for her was gone with those words.

“You’re paid by the Lannisters, you’re here for the bounty on me, “ ready to draw his sword at any moment.

“I’m not paid by the Lannisters.”

“No?” he walked closer to her. “Fancy sword you got there, where’d you get it?” He thought she was full of shit, what better way to gain wild, Arya’s trust than send a woman in armor with sword. She wouldn’t just go with some man, clever to send her the very person she wanted to be. “I’ve been looking at Lannister gold my whole life, go on Brienne of fucking Tarth, tell me that’s not Lannister gold.

“Jaime Lannister gave me this sword,” she said and Sandor looked over his shoulder at Arya.

“The Bloody Gate is ten miles,” Arya said reiterating Brienne's first question to her, making clear that she didn’t want to go anywhere with them.

“I swore to your mother by the Old Gods and the New.” The woman urged.

“I don’t care what you swore!” Arya hissed, in that particularly hateful way of her’s. Brienne called out for Arya again and Sandor was sick of hearing her talk.

“You heard the girl, she’s not coming with you," he wanted her to leave to go back to King’s Landing or fall on her sword he didn’t care. All he knew was that he didn’t trust her with Arya and that they still had a lot of traveling to that day. He didn't have time for this nonsense.

“She is,” Brienne said as if it was now fact. Sandor unsheathed part of his sword and she did the same.

“You’re not a good listener,” he looked down to the blade of her sword and sneered. “Valyrian steel, I’ve always wanted some Valyrian steel.” The last sword of the type that the Lannisters had got their golden paws on had been House Stark's sword, Ice. They had taken it after they removed Lord Eddard Stark’s head and by the looks of it the blade Brienne had, it looked freshly forged. How dare she lie and say that she would protect Arya while she carried the debauched and reforged version the girls own house sword.

“Come with me Arya,” Brienne urged looking at the skeptical child. “I’ll take you to safety.”

“Safty! Where the fucks’ that?” Sandor cut, the sudden sharpness in his voice surprised Arya.  He knew better than anyone that there was nowhere for her to go, no place where she would be out of danger in Westeros at least. “Her aunt in the Eyrie is dead, her mother's dead, her father's dead, her brother’s dead, Winterfell is a pile of rubble. There is no safety you dumb bitch, and if you don’t know that by now you’re the wrong one to watch over her.” Sandor spat, staring big Brienne down, wondering who that woman thought she was to demand that Arya come with her.

The child didn’t know her, she had never seen her and even if she was telling the truth, even if she really  was there by some order of long dead Catlyn Stark she still had no right. He had kidnapped Arya, yes, but he had planned on getting her back to her family for a price. He hadn’t simply tried once but twice to get the child back to her blood, and when that failed he took on the responsibility for caring for the orphan. He kept her safe, he made sure she ate and he found shelter for her, and this women carrying a Lannister sword had the utter nerve to think that there was somewhere else for the Stark girl to go. If there was a place for her in Westeros he would have found it already.

For a flickering moment, he thought back to Imani. Her that night as she sat in the tub her voice and words still pining like crystal in his mind.

_“Summer Isle girls are allowed to choose their fates even if the choice they make is wrong....”_

When he first heard it he found it stupid and foolish, girl children actually being the voice of their own decisions. Yet, it had been that very thing that stopped him from dragging Sansa Stark from King’s Landing when he left. She had made her own wants clear to him and because of those long away words from a foreign girl he respected them, even if he knew she was wrong. And like her pretty sister, Arya had made it clear that she didn’t trust Brienne and she didn't want to go with her. Yet, the women was foolishly persistent. If anyone should have understood such a simple concept, it should have been a woman like her.

She gave him a mocking smile at his words, “Is that what you’re doing, watching over her?”

He knew just as well what she was implying and he wanted to ball up his fist and break her face. He didn’t know her and she definitely did not know him, minus the tales she might have heard about The Hound. A killer he was for sure, but it was clear by Brienne’s tone she was assuming that he had debauched the child. Sandor was surprised by how angry that simple statement made him. He had felt protective over little Asha Xe when she was King’s Landing if she had become queen he knew he would have stood between her and Joffrey one day. He had been the only person to come back for Sansa when she was almost raped, that day he killed three men to protect her. And he had done more for Arya than anyone had since her father died, but this pretend knight of a woman had the gall to assume such a thing from him.

“Aye, that's what I’m doing,”, he said lowly. Brienne pulled out her sword and so did he.

Arya scrambled closer to watch the fight, and even though she knew that Sandor was ill he still a formidable fighter. He swung his longsword not with the intention to injure but meaning to kill.  But, Brienne wasn't a  novice herself and seemed to be quite strong as well. Sandor backhanded Brienne, knocking her to the dirt and we went to bury his sword in her neck, but she raised her blade and blocked him. He wanted the fight to be over, he wanted her to die. Due to the festering bite on his neck his was slower than usual, Brienne kicked him and felt to his knees. Arya watched from a ways away and she wondered what he was doing this for? He had no use for her any longer, there was no one else that would pay for her. There was nothing to gain from stopping this woman from taking her. With a lowered brow and a tensed lip, silently hoping for him to get up.

“I have no wish to kill you, ser.” Brienne panted, holding her new shiny sword to his face.

 _Ser._ He seethed with hate from he word. To her shock and confusion, he reached up and grabbed the Valyrian Steel blade with his bare hands, slicing his palms open. He gritted his teeth and slowly got to his teeth, staring at her as his hands oozed blood.

“I’m not a knight,” Sandor said before yanking the sword from her grasp and punching her dead in the face. Yanking her by her short blonde hair, he pulled her head back with one hand, the other going for her neck. Going on reaction Brienne swung her arm up and punched him right between his legs, in his utter rage and pain Sandor returned the action by kicking Brienne right in her cunt. Arya thought that he would hold a back just a bit because he was fighting a woman, but she was wrong. He fought Brienne just as he would do if she had been a man of her stature. He was on her, beating her face with his fists, gritting his teeth in deep and dark red rage. Sandor wanted to bloody his fist, feel the bones in her face crack and snap under his hits. Somehow she managed to flip him over and the next thing he knew he felt the blinding, burning pain of her teeth ripping at the ear on the burnt side of his face, tearing it off.

Nothing but blinding hate filled him at that moment, he wanted to fucking gut her, nothing would make him happier than to rip out her entrails and hang her by them. It was a blur, he had his knife out and went to stab at her, only to feel her beating him over the head with what he assumed was a rock, over and over and over. The hits so hard that they jarred his vision making him see odd flashes of light, he couldn’t die here. No, he couldn’t. He had to get to her, that is what this all had been for. <i>Her.</i> Brienne was screaming, pushing him backward as she kept hitting him and suddenly Sandor realized through his daze that was falling.

In that less than a second flash, when he realized that he was slipping off of a cliff and in a panic is mind went back to her.

_“Sandor….”_

* * *

Arya had avoided Brienne after the fight and once they had given up on finding her she set out to find where she seen Sandor fall. To her surprise, she saw that he was still alive, but he wouldn’t be for long by the look of him, he a bloody mess.

“You’re still here…” he panted, trying to hide the agony he was in. Truly he didn't expect her to show up, figuring she would have either been taken by Brienne or had ran off, but instead the child was there. Arya’s ghostly eyes to his leg and saw that he had a bone sticking out his thigh and silently she winced at the sight. "The big bitch saved you," he rasped, but she knew all too well that he was struggling to be The Hound, struggling not to show fear.

“I don’t need saving,” she didn’t, she never needed saving from him.

“No not you, you’re a real killer,” Sandor mocked as best as he could. “With your water dancing and your Needle.” He heard the wobble of tenderness in his voice that he tried to choke back.

“You're gonna die.”  Arya uttered. Her words were not taunting just a cold fact.

“Unless there’s a maester hiding behind that rock...aye...I’m done.” Death and the idea of it never really scared him before, but now it did because of what Imani had done to him and the fear of never seeing her again. It had been the same reason he fled from King's Landing while the Blackfire burned, it was that very thing that had got him into his mess. At that moment with that burning horrible pain, he hated her for putting that fear in him. Without her he would have been fine to meet the Stanger, death had to be better than the terrible life he lived, yet now it wasn't.

_“You know nothing you stupid little girl. How could you know anything? All you know is sunny skies and beaches, all you do is sing songs.”_

Those mean and vile words were the last things he would ever say to her. The very last thing he had done to the only person who had ever cared for him was to crush her heart with his fist and make he sob. His guts were in knots, all tied ruined and black with regret, he couldn't stand another moment with the guilt of the things he had done, the things he had ruined. So, he asked Arya to do as she originally promised and kill him, but the girl child just stared at him with her icy eyes, making no movement towards him with her sword. Sandor clenched his teeth and looked at her confused as to why she wouldn’t give him that mercy. Was she making him suffer? No, he knew she liked killing, just as much as him. He saw it in her eyes, that horrible satisfaction when she ended a life. Just when he needed her to hate him he realized that he done a good job of making her care. _Fuck._

“I cut down your butcher's boy, the ginger...he..was begging for mercy.” Sandor spat, hurling horrible things at the child trying to get her mad, trying to make her hate him again. “Please, ser. Please don’t kill me. Please, please.” he imitated her friend that he killed, hoping it would cause her to snap. “He bled all over my horse...saddle stunk of butcher's boy for weeks.”

Arya only blinked, still with a dead expression. So in desperation he tried again with something else, something more atrocious. “Your sister, your pretty sister. I should have taken her...that night the Blackwater burned...I should have fucked her bloody…” Lies, all of it. Arya knew him too well now, she knew he was just fucking with her to induce rage. “At least I would have one happy memory since…” Sandor’s words trailed off, again the guilt building like rancid vomit in the back his throat.  He was shaking, it hurt so bad and Arya realized he was crying as he stared at her. “Do I have to beg you?”

Arya still said nothing at all, yet inside she suffered when she came to the realization that he had bled for her, and he would die for her. Who could say the same? Her father was murdered for treason, her brother started a war in reaction for that action and died, but it hadn't for her. All of the friends she thought she had were gone, they had abandoned her and yet this man that she once hated had done more for her than anyone had since her world crumbled.

“Do it,” Sandor begged he wanted it to stop, for it all to stop. The pain and the thoughts of everything he had fucked up. He couldn’t stand to think about Imani any longer, moments of her repeating in his head over and over again.

_"A bear, there was a bear, a bear…”_

“Do it,” he begged again, his voice cracking as he stared at the child. Who just the night before he had held while they slept because she was cold due to the cold, air that caused them to see their breath.

_“I have grown to love you, and even you can’t take that from me.”_

Arya finally stood and walked over to him, she wanted to kill him, she wanted to give him that but couldn’t find it in herself anymore to do it. Her killing was for people she hated and she no longer despised him. Instead, she bend down and grabbed his coin purse. Without a single word, she looked down at him the trauma that stunted her emotions not allowing her to speak. She only turned and started to walk him, leaving the sad, old dog there to bleed because the killing wound wasn't her's to take now. He had made someone else care for him and he hated that he done it.

“Kill me,” he called after her but the little wolf didn't stop. “Kill me! Kill me! KILL ME!”

Sandor trembled  in fear once the child had disappeared from his view. The physical pain was horrendous, but the mental torture was far worse. Imani’s image flashing through his throughs far more vivid than she had been for years. “Oh my Gods..” he whispered into the chilly air, as the phantom sound of her laugh ripped through his mind. Her black braids dangling in her face as she slowly sat up, from dreaming in his bed. His lips twitched as he looked up to the cloudy sky, recalling her lips on his and the feel of her skin on his rough hands. She had been the only light in his life, the only hint of goodness on all of his horrible blood-soaked years.

“I--I fucked it up,” Sandor choked to no one. “I fucked it all up.” Tears ran down his bloody face, and for the first time in a long time he sobbed. His cries cutting the still silent air, a lifetime of sadness pooling out in those dark moments. It physically hurt his body to cry, but he couldn't stop. Flickers of the most mundane moments filled his brain. Her bumping into him in the hall, her small hands resting on his chest as she blinked up and a apologized so beautifully. Her and her sisters in the sunlight, laughing behind their, thin dark hands. He resting her chin on the edge of that tub looking up at him as she bathed as if she was some immortal fairy tale creature.

Biting his lip in pain, he struggled to reach inside of his ripped leather armor and slowly pulled out the now bloody piece of parchment and stared at her frantic lovely handwriting. From somewhere a song bird sung, and things started to slip and grow dim. “I’m..I’m sorry.” his hand shook as he stared at the note. Sandor knew that night in the gardens when he watched as the firefly lit up in her dark eyes, he knew he should have said it then, but his hatefulness  wouldn’t let him speak it. “I..loved you, Imani...I did.” Sandor uttered as if she would hear from across land and sea. His eyes went glazed and rolled into the back of his head and before his world went dark he tasted sweet mangos on his tongue and heard the utterance of his name in her flowery accent.

 

_“Clegane….please...”_

* * *

**_End of Act II_**

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to write the whole fight with Brianne because Sandor's throughs were important to write, also I feel that him fighting someone to protect Arya says a lot about the man he is so I put it in there.  
> -
> 
> This can be the very end of the story if you want. You can accept that Sandor is dead, and Imani never sees him again. This is GoT after all and everything is tragic and nothing is fair. Or, you can keep reading because there is always the Gravedigger theory.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty short, but hey last chapter was long as fuck so....

_The room was almost blinding with warm midday light, the breeze didn't carry the stench from the city squalor below. There was only the scent of the bay's water and clean, warm air. She stood there, black lashes pointing downward, her pearly white teeth chewing at her moist, plump bottom lip. He circled her, slowly and deliberately, allowing his eyes to trail up and down her silk covered body. Imani hadn’t yet to look up at him, her eyes still cast down as if she was bashful, such timidness would befit another darling. Sandor reached up and took one of her wooly, raven braids between his fingers and stroked it slowly, adoring the feeling of it on his skin. He stopped in front of her, and her dark, lidded eyes looked up at him with the smoky gaze that only a lover could possess. Without words, Imani lowered the sleeves of her silken purple gown and it slipped off of her in one smooth motion and pooled at her feet._

_He stared at her skin, dark and unblemished, every inch of it was smooth like honey and caught the light in such a way that made him shudder for breath at the mere sight of it._

_“Touch me,” Imani said stepping towards him. Sandor’s shaking hands reached out for her flesh. He bit his lip as he ran his palm down her waist, his other hand stroking her delicate upper arm. The feel of her was agonizing to him. To touch and hold something so gentle, and beautiful made him realize how before her his days had been filled him with nothing more than endless scorn. The only sensations on his hands had been cold, hard steel and slick blood. He stepped behind Imani, drawing a sighing moan from her as he ran his hands over her breasts._

_“I want you.” Sandor uttered as he touched all over her, along her belly, the tops of her thighs, even up her back to feel where her gentle spine stood._

_“You had me,” she said, her tone holding a shallow, echoing ping of pain. “Do you only know how to hurt, Clegane? Is that all you are good at?”_

_Imani’s words were like tiny blades, cutting into his flesh in quick jagged slices. Suffering and causing suffering were the only two things he knew and the latter to him had been an art form. He had been the butcher while the rest were meat, and there had been a time in his dark, hellish life that he actually enjoyed it. He had been told that he was the dog, that he was the terror and for most of his life he accepted it as fact without so much a protesting blink. Yet, she had been the first person since his younger days that saw him as something else - a person. Her deep black eyes had flayed him, peeling back the layers of hateful, ruined skin to peer underneath with a silk lined question. **Who are you really?** Imani had dug into his chest and pulled out bloody bits of him that he didn't know he had, a humor, a kindness and even love, all of them real and throbbing like actual meaty organs. Her tiny hands had found each one, pulled them free, caressed them, cleaned them and kissed them before she put them back in odd orders, leveling him with a jumbled feeling in his gut._

_“Aye, that is all I know,” he said bitterly to the warm beauty in his arms. He put one large hand around her neck and tilted her head back, the other inching between her hot thighs._

_“Spare me the words of The Hound, for it is Sandor Clegane I wish to hear now,” Imani said, her eyes flickering closed. Sandor heard a musical tweeting, he looked up and out to the open balcony and there he saw a songbird. It teetered sweetly, fluttering its tiny wings. Suddenly it stopped singing and flew away and Imani’s warmth was gone from his arms. He blinked back over to see Imani facing him yet now further away, her skin no longer visible to his aching shadowy glaze. She leered at him, her head adorned with large bright feathers, blooming from her head like a peacock's tail, the light casting off of her golden gown hurt his eyes when he stared at it directly. In one delicate hand, she held on to his great sword. Her face wore a determined and tight expression, one that he had actually never saw from her. Lowered brows, narrowed eyes, staring inside of him through his marrow._

_His lips went to move, but he realized that they were no longer alone and from the sudden shadows out stepped Sansa Stark. Her lovely pale face was pinkened from tears, just how he remembered her. The shade of red her cheeks were, the matted, wet lashes, her moist lips had picked at a heartline in him. She stood there dressed in one of her light pink gowns, her long red hair loose, with a crown of blue winter roses atop her head. Sandor’s mouth went dusty dry at the sight of the two of them standing beside one another. They were the personifications of opposite perfection, and beholding the two of them at the same time seemed forbidden in an undesirable way._

_“So many birds,” Sansa said, and then he saw Arya step out of the darkness as well. Her dirty hand caressing the handle of Needle as it rested in her belt. Thick, red beads of blood dripped down her forehead from a crown of thorns. The two sets of Winter ice eyes and one of dark Summer stared at him like sharpened daggers. All saying something different yet they all sent chills up his horrible spine. Imani’s grip on his sword tightened and she moved towards him as if it weighed nothing in her delicate hands._

_“There’s no one worse than you,” Arya said coldly._

_“Do you always have to be so hateful?” Sansa asked, the both of them uttering things that they had said to him in slivered moments in time. The three of them moved in tandem as if tied and connected by invisible strings, the movement of a six leg, six armed and three-headed insect inching closer and closer to him. He felt as if someone was pressing down on his armored shoulders, as he was forced to his knees, hearing the scraping of his blade on the floor as it inched closer and closer to him._

_“What are you doing?” he asked, surprised in by the fear and panic in his voice. The side of his face felt hot, his heart was throbbing deep and quickly in his chest. “Imani please, spare me!”_

_“You begged for death,” Arya said, her little pale hands now covered in blood._

_“You said you were ready.” Sansa spoke, the pink fabric of her dress had gone crimson at her crotch, reminding him of when she flowered and became a woman. Sandor felt something soft under his weight and when he looked down he saw that he kneeling on a pile of rotting corpses, faces of those whom he had killed. Maggots ate their way out of eyes, they squirmed out of mouths and burst from dead bloated bellies._

_“Kill The Hound. Kill The Hound. Kill The Hound,” the two winter sisters started to chant._

_“Wait! Don’t!” He begged, putting his hands up, feeling once again like that helpless boy from his past. Sticky nectar spilled from Imani’s lips like sweet bile as she raised his sword, flickers of eerie green light dancing on the wet, slick surface of her black eyes._

_“We know where the heart is, do you?” she garbled through the thick mango smelling sap that oozed from her mouth before she brought the sword down, the blade breaking through his armor, flesh, muscle, and bone...bleeding him dry._

* * *

Wet with cold sweat and agony Sandor Clegane’s eyes flashed open. Hearing the pounding thump of his still beating heart loud in his ears. His eyes scrambled to make sense of what he saw, there was no longer the sky above him, or his back resting against rock. Instead, a dim, dank room greeted him. He had no idea where he was or how he got there in that bed, nor who bandaged his wounds, and all he Sandor Clegane knew that for better or for worse that he was very much alive...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What do we tell the God of Death?" 
> 
> "Not today."
> 
> Also, I just love giving Sandor horrible nightmares, like Imani stabbing him in the chest while nectar spills from her mouth like vomit? Fucking metal. 
> 
> Also, much symbolism...lol


	33. Chapter 33

The Goldenwood table was a mess with half rolled scrolls. Some of them from the north, some from the east and others delivered by bright tropical birds from islands nearby.  Imani sat back in her chair and let out a long sigh, as her council members discussed the current state of the world. A the crew from a Summer Isle merchant ship had reported that while sailing the seas in Essos they saw one of Daenerys Targaryen’s dragons flying overhead. It's wings casting a shadow over the water, that it's black scales and screeching roar had caused chills to run up their spines in utter terror and amazement. The beast called Drogon, apparently nothing compared to the dragons of old when it came to size, yet by all accounts it was still a truly fearsome creature. How wondrous and terrifying it would be to see such a thing. An actual, living, breathing dragon, flying above, its outstretched wings blotting out the sun. It's scales catching the light like colored glass.

Imani let out a dreamy sigh as she ideally her lips with the feather of a quill, her council members comments and conversation droning in the background of her own distant and hazy thoughts. There had been a day, years ago; back in the Red Keep when she had made her way down to the dungeons. Curiosity driving her to seek out the skulls of the long dead Targaryen dragons. They had been placed there, abandoned and hidden by Robert Baratheon. Given his hate for the Targaryen's it was surprised her that he hadn't had them crushed into dust, and she was thankful that he didn't. She remembered putting her hand on the cold bone of one of their snouts so ignorant to the fact that they would fly again only years later.

The memory turned bittersweet as she recalled who had found her here in the damp, darkness of those large catacombs dungeons.

* * *

_“You might be the worst listener ever.”_

_Imani jumped pulling her hand away from the dragons skull as she turned to see Sandor’s large silhouette standing in the dimly lit archway. Somewhere inside of the dungeons a prisoner let out a muffled, doomed cry. Imani smiled warmly at him before she turned away, her attention going back to the long dead Valyrian beast. Sandor let out a growl as he stepped towards her, the clanking of his armor echoing off of the dank cellar walls. This was not a place for her to be, not the place for most people. He had told her time and time again that just because it was a castle did not mean it was safe, and these humid and chilly dungeons were the most dangerous. One could get lost through the mazing halls if they didn't know where they were going. Where the prisoners were kept was a certain deep part of hell that he didn’t wish for her innocent summer eyes to see. Tortures were carried out there, people were put on racks, had their teeth and nails pulled out, somewhere even left in rooms of starving rats to be fed on for whatever crime they committed. Horrible, twisted things so sweet women should ever have the misfortune of stumbling upon._

_“I told you about wandering around,” he said, his voice low and thick in the heavy air. She said nothing, only offering a mellow shrug of her delicate shoulders. Sandor licked his lips noticing that the tiny hairs on her dark, bare arms stood erect from the chill._

_“Who is this?” she asked, running one delicate finger down one of the large skulls' fangs. Sandor raised an eyebrow at Imani and then tried to remember. There was no order to how they were stored, King Robert had just demanded that the by put there out of sight._

_“Fuck, I don’t know maybe Meraxes,” he honestly had no idea and didn’t care._

_“Ahh!” Iman perked up and then looked at him with a smile. “She was ridden by Rhaenys Targaryen.”_

_Sandor’s lip quirked in the corner of his mouth at her enthusiasm. She really did think that the history of Westeros was intriguing. He found it odd yet, almost annoyingly charming. She shivered, and he swallowed hard at the sight of her nipples poking through her silken gown. The gooseflesh of her smooth skin bewitched him._

_“Come on, my lady. This is no place for you,” Sandor took her by her bony wrist and went to lead her out, but she protested._

_“Wait, I want to see The Black Dread.” Imani pulled out of his grip with a gentle wrench of her arm and he gnashed his teeth at her demanding high-born tone. He usually hated that sound, that slightly pitched whine rich women do when they want their way, yet with her like most things he found it throbbingly attractive; in the way that he wanted to reproduce that very whine while he fucked her hard._

_Balerion The Black Dread was the only one he knew he could identify because it was biggest._

_“Fine, girl._ Go look _at the big fucking beast and then we leave.”_

_Imani smiled and went to make her way over to the massive skull, Sandor following her like a massive watchful shadow. Imani’s mouth dropped when she got closer to the huge skull and it dwarfed her in comparison. Sandor watched as she walked around the skull, running her hand along bone._

_“His teeth are as long as swords," she mused in awe. "They say that he could swallow a whole wooly mammoth whole, and that his wings could cast whole towns in shadow as he flew above.”_

_Yet, Sandor was paying her words no mind, lost in the curves of her body. He licked his top lip as she bent over for a closer look at the dragon skills jaw, her bright orange gown slightly tightening around her peach shaped ass._

_“Fucking Seven Hells,” the words slipped from his mouth like a hushed breath and Imani turned around and looked at him with narrowed eyes._

_“What?”_

_“Don’t play coy, my lady. You know what,” he said taking a step towards her. Imani backed up, now against the cold bone of  Balerion skull. The dragon's long teeth at her back. She let out a whimper when Sandor ran his thumbs glove covered thumbs over her hard nipples. “The sight of these makes me hard.” He quickly pulled down one strap of her gown, exposing her right breast to hungry eyes. Imani let out a hushed moan, as he bent down and wrapped his lips around her nipple. She straightened up on her tip toes, and eventually ended up standing on the tops of his boots in an attempt to make herself a bit taller so he could have better access to her tits. With a whimper, she closed her eyes, arching her back, loving the feeling of his tongue as it flickered her sensitive nipple._

_“This is...ah...a bit disrespectful don’t….ahh...don’t you think?” she moaned, although she reached her arm out to rub his stiff cock through his trousers._

_Sandor pulled his lips away with a smack, “To who? The dead dragons?” he snickered as he turned her around. Imani’s breasts were up against Balerion’s once mighty jaw, and her mind screamed of how wrong and taboo this was but her hips wiggled in anticipation anyway. She felt him hard against her backside, his large hand running up her thigh as he lifted her gown._

_“S--Sandor--I--” she shivered, her skin was riddled with gooseflesh from the chill._

_“The lady likes dragons, eh?” Sandor whispered darkly into her ear as he exposed her bare ass. “Did you ever think you’d be fucked against one?” He kicked her legs apart and pulled off his gloves wanting to feel her skin on his. Imani whimpered as she felt him spread her lower lips with his thumbs, letting out a deep, groan at the sight of her wet, pink cunts. He undid laces of his trousers and pulled his throbbing cock free, pressing it against her slick slit. Imani whimpered as ran the head of his cock along her quivering twat before he slammed into her with one quick thrust. The sight of her tight cunt stretching around him made Sandor snicker with utter vulgar delight. Imani almost yelped, but he quickly covered her mouth with his large hand._

_“So wet...fuck," he hissed, one large hand on her hips as he stroked into her. “I like this cunt more than a hundred fucking dragons."_

* * *

 

“Oberyn Martell is dead,” The words from Donho Quxdus violently yanked her out of her remembered daydream. She blinked twice, trying to process what she had just heard.

“Wait, what?” she asked.

“Prince Oberyn was Tyrion Lannister’s champion for his trial by combat, sadly he did not live…”

It was common for Summer Isle families and Dornish families to have close ties due to their proximity to each other. The Martells and the Xe’s had intermingled more than a few times over the span of their families. So word of the Prince's death was shocking.

“Who killed him?”  Imani asked and the members of her council all looked at each other with uncomfortable glances.

“It was Ser Gregor Clegane…” Ekua said, and Imani’s face dropped. She could never forget about Gregor but to her he wasn’t a person to be mentioned, but rather some massive dark evil entity that knew only pain. She hated to hear even his name, and all she could think of when she did was the thought of him holding Sandor as child against fire to burn him. The kind of evil to show no emotion even as his own little brother screamed into the flames.

“Oberyn most have done it for revenge for what The Mountain did to his sister at the sack of King’s Landing,” Imani said, her voice small and uncomfortable that Gregor’s nasty name was even brought up.

“A horrible thing. Those Northern Westerosi commit the worst crimes.” Shaman Mother Hoza Xomo said. using  ‘Nothern’ to show her distaste for all of the other kingdoms that were not Dorne.

“So, The Mountain still rides?” Imani asked.

“Not as I hear it, Oberyn poisoned him,” Donho told her,  stroking his well-trimmed beard. “Apparently he will die a slow painful death.”

“Good, may he die screaming.” Imani said, her dark words shocking her elder sister. “Although death is too much of a kindness for a monster like that.”

“Aye.” They all agreed.

“We must send Doran Martell something in our sympathies regarding the loss of his brother anything else from the north?”

“Tywin Lannister is also dead dead.” Ekua told her, stopping before she continued. “He was killed by his son Tyrion.”

Imani’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at her words, “My gods, what is going on in that city?”

“Apparently madness, Tyrion has gone missing from the city, as well as Lord Varys.” The mention of the spider made Imani narrow her eyes and sit up a bit straighter. She had use for the Master of Whispers and they had an agreement about information with him off in hiding she hated to think she would lose access to said information.

“Ah.” Imani sighed.

“Cersei Lannister demands that if anyone sees her brother to kill him on sight and send her his head,” Donho added as he picked the scroll from the now queen regent and glanced at it. Imani lowered her brow and stood up, her chair squeaking across the marble as she did.

“She demands?” The question came out as amused. Imani strolled over and Donho handed her the scroll. Imani took it between her delicate fingers and held on to the parchment as if it was poisoned. Her dark eyes scanned over the script written in the queens insane looking scroll; all points and sharp ends. It had to have been a letter she wrote tons of times to anyone with power, ordering them to kill her brother if he was found. Yet, this was not Westeros and they were not part of The Seven Kingdoms.

Imani narrowed her eyes, moving towards a candle and slowly raised her hand to the flickering flame.

“These withering Lions..." she breathed watching the flame catch the scroll. " They think they can command Panthers,” she whispered. The fire burning the letter from the Cersei Lannister as if it was written by no one higher than a common kitchen wench.

* * *

The door to their late mother’s tower high study creaked open and Ekua peaked in. The dusty room had stayed bolted shut since Princess Sauda’s death until her middle child unlocked it. Ekua firmly believed that her mother’s spirit haunted that room, and had called from the dark to her teary-eyed and then pregnant child to come to her. There in her tears Imani broke the lock, like a child trying to find her mother past the door and stepped into her silent domain that was just as she left it since her death.

“Imani?” Ekua asked, softly peeking into the dark. She didn't want to go inside, feeling foolish at the fear she had for that dusty room. She recalled Imani’s screams the day their mother’s obsidian candles lit themselves, as something breathed new life into them. They had never lit while Sauda lived and Imani believed that the dragons being born caused it, magic causing magic. Ekua never spoke about it, but she thought she might be right. It had been said that Asha had their mother's perceptiveness, Ekua had her regal chill and it was apparent that now Imani had her gift for magic born of blood. “Imani?” she called again. Pushing the door open furthered and for a split second her heart jumped into her neck when she thought the figure at the desk was actually their dead mother’s phantom, but her logic took over when she realized that it was her little sister when she looked up.

“Come in,” Imani said her voice, sounding low and distant. Ekua looked down at the threshold that separated her from her late mother’s study. The feeling in the room always terrified her, the air felt full of something, an indescribable feeling that made the hairs on her arm stand up straight even when her mother lived. Ekua shook her her head and Imani let out sigh. “It’s not haunted, and don’t you think that if mother was here she would us let know?”

Ekua chewed the inside of her cheek and slowly stepped in. The feeling in the air sending a chill up her spine. The room had been aired out, but it still smelt of old books and an odd metallic sting.

“Have a seat,” Imani said waving her and over to a dusty chair at the other end of the large table. It wasn’t until then that Ekua even noticed that Sandor Clegane’s helmet was sitting next to Imani. Its blacked out hound eyes seeming as if they were starting everything and nothing at the same time. A bolt of hate ran through Ekua at the sight of its ugly, snarled muzzle. She wished she could grab it, throw it to the marble floor and smash it. As if it was the reason that her little  sister still had feelings for Sandor Clegane. That it was there radiating some malevolent curse that caused Imani to cry for him as if she was a helpless girl still in love with a monster she shouldn't have tried to pet. Ekua could only imagine him with lies on his mouth. When she thought about them, something that made her gut sick and oily she only could see his large bloody hands at Imani’s neck as he snarled vulgar worlds. Her golden sister limp in his steel and iron clutches. Nothing more than a salivating beast with crazed eyes as he leered over Imani’s naive naked body. Although, she knew that her sister was a more than willing persistent of their doomed affair, Ekua could not imagine them as anything else. A hateful beast stealing a beauty he should have never touched.  

“I have to keep it in here because Mereya keeps trying to get at it.” Imani sighed with a sort of sad chuckle. There was a thick heavy silence between the two of three Xe's before Imani dropped her head and slumped her shoulder. “Do you find me horrible that I didn’t tell about her?”

“No, sister. Not at all."

"I wish I could feel the same way,” Imani said. Ekua looked back at his helm and narrowed her eyes.

“Did you use the candles?” Ekua was surprised when Imani's emotions slipped into clear distress. Hot sudden tears flooded her eyes and her bottom lip quivered as she slowly put her hands up on the table. Ekua looked down at her bleeding palm from where she sliced her hand open, crimson still oozing the slash filling the air between them with the metal smell of her blood. Nothing in magic was free, everything had a price and pain and blood were almost always the currency.

“There was no mind to see, only darkness as if he was deeper than sleep...or...” she uttered as silent tears slipped down her cheek and dotted the table. “Sister, I need you to lie to me right now...just I need someone to tell me that he might not be dead.” Imani knew she sounded crazy and lost to delusions, but she just needed those words to fill her ears so she could breathe. She didn’t want to suffer, not yet, and not now.

“What you ask isn’t a lie so I will say it, he _might_ not be dead.”

“Thank you, for that."

* * *

The pain that wracked his body was unimaginable, so blindingly strong that he thought he would vomit. Sandor curled his lip as the door to the small bedroom opened squeaking with rusty hinges.

“Ah, I knew you would wake up soon,” A tall man, dressed in simple brown robes said from the doorway.

“Who the fuck are you? Where am I?” Sandor asked, gritting his teeth as he attempted to sit up in the bed that was rather small for his large body. A sharp stab pain rattled his head causing him to let out an agonizing groan.

“You’ll have pain for a while, you were rather broken up when I found you.” The man said walking over to him and Sandor’s confused, unsure eyes followed his approach. The man stopped and slipped his arms through the long, draping sleeves of his robes before he spoke again. “I’m not surprised you don't remember being taken here, you faded only after a few rather incoherent words. After that the only reason we knew you were alive was your shallow breathing, but other than that you were lost to the world. Somewhere deeper than sleep, and past dreams.” He took a step towards Sandor, but he didn’t proceed, catching the hint of a skeptical curled lip. “I cleaned out your wounds and even then you did not flinch, even at the prick of a needle through your flesh you didn’t awake and...well some of your wounds were worse than others.”

Sandor glanced down to his leg that was still covered with a sheet, “I saved your leg, but..” he trailed off as Sandor pulled the sheet off, it was wrapped tight and packed but it was obvious that the fracture wouldn’t heal perfectly.

“I’m a fucking cripple, is that what you’re saying?” he hissed, covering his leg up again, not wanting to look at it for another second.

“After it heals you should be able to walk.”

Sandor clenched his teeth, “Aye, maybe but right.” he sat up, his eyes darting around the room in pain, confused, panicked. “What do you want? Why didn’t you let me fucking die?” He bit his lip and arched his back in pain. Sandor's whole body rattled, and screamed in agony. Fractured bone, ripped muscles, skin purple with bruises. "That fucking big bitch...fuck that bitch," Sandor uttered, reaching up to his bandaged head to feel the chunk of flesh missing from his ear where Brienne had bitten it off. If he ever found her  he would kill her slowly by wrapping his hands around her neck, choking the life out of her for what she done to him. He could picture her face going red, then blue, the blood vessels in her eyes popping.

"Fuck that stupid cunt," he said, gnashing is teeth from the pain. He could not believe out of all of the battles he fought a woman had almost killed him.  “You--fucking fool--you if you were smart you would have let me die and collected the bounty on my head for yourself.

The man sat down at a chair in the corner of room, rubbing his chin with a pensive hum. “Aye, ten...wait no, one hundred silver stags for the horrible The Hound dead or alive. Yet, I have no need for money.”

“I’m not going to ask you again, what do you fucking want from me?” he hissed.

“You've been out cold for the last few days, yet right before you woke up I heard you talking to yourself finally able to dream and from the mouth of a killer came names.”

Sandor recalled the chant from the two Winter sisters:  _“Kill The Hound. Kill The Hound. Kill The Hound.”_

 _“We know where the heart is, do you?”_  Imani’s voice said as sweet smelling nectar poured from her lips like clear vomit before she dug his great sword through his chest. Bleeding him of sickly dark blood, as if it was rancid and needed to be purged.

The man smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at the broken, worried dog. “The Gods give second chances...even for men like us.”

 


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor has to confess a few things...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of rape.

_He clenched his teeth, hissing as he desperately undid the laces of his breeches a soon as he shut the door to his chambers. “Fuck,” Sandor let out a grunt, his sweating palm grabbing a hold of his hard cock._

_That damn girl, that Imani Xe, the pretty little thing had been dancing circles in his mind since that morning when she had turned the corner and had bumped into him in the hall. Those delicate hands landing on his chest in reaction, licking her lips, blinking dark eyes up at him before she breathed._

_“Pardon me, Ser.”_

_His leering eyes had taken a glance at her tits, then waist, then hips and even there right in the hall his cock slightly quivered at the sight of her. Smoothly brown, full-lipped, nubile summer beauty. With a grunt, Sandor spat on his palm and started to stroke his hard cock._

_Dark and smokey obscene thoughts about her filling his mind. His armored and gloved hands ripping her gown off of her, throwing her to his bed. He wondered if she would be the type to bit her lip and press her knees together in shy coyness, or would she spread those brown thighs wide to show him what color her cunt was? Pink? Or was it dark like her? It wouldn’t matter if he had his way he would bury his face it like the vulgar monster that he was and lick her until she lost her mind._

_“Oh fuck,” Sandor moaned his hips bucking as he watched pre-seed ooze from the tip of his rod. His eyes rolled in their sockets as he envisioned spreading her wet slit with his thumbs before he slipped inside of her. Was she a screamer? Did she whimper? Was she the type of lady that would stay silent? His imagination was all he because he knew that she was the type of girl that he could only abuse himself in the dark to, never to actually touch and fill her. He cupped his balls and inched up on the tips of his toes, heat flushing his skin, sweat beading on his brow. “Ahhh--Seven Hells” Sandor’s mind was a light with fantasies of stuffing her cunt with his hard, long length, fucking her roughly and what he could only assume would be perfect tits bouncing with each thrust._

_He stroked faster and faster, feeling the coiling pressure start to build. Sandor let out a loud groan as his cock quivered in his tightened fist and he came hard. White cum shooting upwards to make a mess all over his tunic. His hair stuck to his damp forehead as he panted and tried to catch his breath. He would eventually see the pretty high-born again, all feathers and smiles and when she would notice him, she would have no idea that he came in his fist to the thought of her...much like the others. One more beautiful thing to possess in his fantasies but never in real life…_

* * *

 

_There had been a point, a slice of time between heart beats where he actually found himself despising her. How dare she? She, Imani Xe be so utterly, so painfully and disgustingly perfect. She was the kind of woman that foolish men wrote songs about, unimaginative love poems were for sure dedicated to her. They probably all were filled with lines such as:_

_'Skin like night eyes like stars'_

_'Hair of wool, lips of silk.'_

_'Lady as dark as night, with summer heat on her skin and the sun in her voice.'_

_The simple thought of those words made him growl and roll his eyes in disgust because they were all true. She was that girl who picked flowers, hummed songs, who laughed and bite her lip in that adoringly innocent way that still send a throb to the loins. Imani was everything he told himself he hated, yet everything he wanted. For some reason her dark summer eyes would grant him that look, shimmering lids low, between black lashes, giving him something that he never thought he would have. Imani would look at him in all of his burnt, twisted, hatefulness and give him the expression that the ladies gave the handsome knights in all the songs. The sharp, coiled hatefulness inside of him that was as real as a bloody organ would unwind with just the sliver of that glance and relax._

_It was as if Imani had cut into him and with golden threads was pulling things out of him that he didn’t know that he could even possess. She made him feel loose, with well-oiled joints;  like an old wooden toy that had once been neglected but was now being cared for. Yet, even though when he laid next to her naked dreaming body The Hound still spoke to him from behind those snarled fangs._

_'This will not last. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve anything, you’re a dog.'_

* * *

 

_“I’ll tell you one thing if I ever get the chance to be alone with that girl…”_

_Sandor watched the young City Watchmen smack his lips from another table. “We’ll find out if summer girls squeal like piggies when you fuck them bloody.” The words slipping through him as he sat there in the brothel holding onto his cup of ale._

_It was a hot, thick, viscous rage that caused Sandor to gnash his teeth, so hard that he thought he would chip them. His large fist constricting around the wooden cup, threatening to be crushed under his strength. Hot pricks of blinding rage nipped at him, his heart throbbing in his chest. His shadowy eyes slid over to the young man, who wore his gold cloak armor, laughing with no idea as to what terrible dog he had had just angered with his words._

_His name was Ser Sladen of some house no one, especially Sandor gave a fuck about. Some boy who thought to have a sword, armor and the title of ‘knight’ meant he was important somehow. Sandor took another drink of his ale, his eyes still staring daggers at the knight as he imagined what he said. Unwillingly his head rattling with images of that boy harming Imani.  Rage boiled in his chest and in reaction he bit his bottom lip so hard that he almost drew blood. Fist trembling at her imagined screams. Ser Sladen blinked his blue eyes over to see The Hound’s deep, dark, stare. He knew better than to utter a word to Sandor Clegane. He wrinkled his brow and shook his head, suddenly not so tough and got up from the wooden table and bided farewell to his fellow City Watchmen and went to leave the brothel._

_Sandor finished his ale before he got up as well and left.  Flea Bottom at night was dark, dank and it always smelt of shit, vomit, and dead things. It was a place where people were frequently robbed, beaten and even killed if luck was cruel. A place where if a knight was found dead, no one would be surprised or even shocked. Ser Sladen stumbled, drunkenly down one of the dim alleyways. He paused and undid the laces of his breeches to have a piss against a dewy stone wall. And as soon as he tilted his head back to let out a relieved sigh, he felt an armored hand grip his shoulder, turn him around and slam his back against the wall._

_“What the f--” his words were cut short when he looked up to see the formidable form of Sandor Clegane leering down at him in the blue darkness. Teeth a curled lip snarl, eyes looking nothing short of those of a mad dog. “What--what are you doing?” he stammered, more like a scared boy than a knight. Sandor raised a knife to his baby smooth face, causing Sladen to whimper pathetically._

_“I heard you back there,” he pushed the knife against the knights face, not breaking the skin but just shy of it. “You want to rape Imani Xe, huh?”_

_Sladen blinked, confused as to why The Hound would care about such a thing. Then he remembered that the Lady’s sister might be the wife of the prince one day, the prince that the dog served. “I--I--I’m sorry! I wasn’t --” he foolishly stuttered, but Sandor heard none of it, only feeling anger at the audacity of this boy to even speak of her like that._

_“You should be careful to what little lady you talk about.” The knife finally broke the skin, silencing at Ser Sladen’s cheek, as he cried pathetically. “I’m going to tell you something, boy,” Sandor said his voice a low deep rasp. “Imani Xe, just so happens to be my lady.”_

_Ser Sladen’s eyes winded and he went to part his lips, but there was a quick slice across his throat. Skin splitting open like parchment, blood oozing out, death unable to be halted. Sladen grabbed his throat, his eyes bugging out of their sockets as he looked up at The Hound, who was just watching him choke on his own blood._

_“Little boys love to run their mouths,” Sandor said as the knight fell to the ground,  his breaches at his ankles as he gurgled his last breath and died there on the cold ground. Sandor wiped his knife off and left his body there to be found by someone else._

 

_The wooden door to her chambers swung open and passed the threshold she stood there. Her lips parted, black braids dangling over her silken covered chest, one delicate hand holding a golden goblet of plum wine. His heart was still throbbing in his chest, the blood beating in his ears from the murder he had just committed, a killing for her that she was ignorant about._

_“Sandor what is--” her words were cut short when he stepped in, slamming and bolting the door. He snarled and knocked the goblet of wine from her hand before his armored hands were all over her. The seams of her gown snapped as he tore it from her._

_"I liked that gown." she protested with a moan._

_"I don't give a fuck."_

_Imani let out a shocked giggle as he pushed her down onto the bed. He growled at the sight of her brown, beautiful flesh as he undid the buckles of his armor, dropping the plates to the stone floor with loud clanks. Imani sat up on her elbows, her black, stardust eyes alight with an appreciation for his body one he pulled his tunic off. He liked the way she wiggled her hips and bumped her knees together in that lewd and profane way when she wanted him to touch her. His blood was up, still on that killing high that he knew she wouldn’t and couldn’t understand._

_“I’m going to fuck you so good you’ll be sore in the morning,” he growled, before getting on top of her._

_“Is that a promise, Clegane?” Imani said before she kissed him in her usual tongue and whore fashion that he adored. As he sipped the nectar of her sweet and innocent mouth he wondered what she would say if she knew what he had just done. That before coming to her he killed a man for speaking ill of her. Would she moan, the tiny slice of wickedness that he knew she had might enjoy it. Or would she pull away and cover her mouth in horror and shock?_

_Imani bit down hard on his bottom lip and he pulled away with a surprised and slightly pained hiss. Her pearly teeth had got him good, and there was a faint trace of his blood on her lips. Imani stared up at him, her mouth twitching into an impish smirk before she tilted her head back and let out a laugh. Sandor seized the moment, putting his mouth to her hot neck, nipping at sucking at it. The feeling of her warm-blooded pulse under his lips was something to be savored._

_“Fuck me, fuck me.” Imani moaned her small hands pulling greedily at his breeches. Sandor quickly unlaced them, freeing his throbbing cock and Imani whimpered feeling it slip along her hot inner thigh._

_“You want it?” he asked, feeling her wiggle under him as impatient as always_

_“Aye! Please, I want it hard and de--” ‘deep’ didn’t get to escape her lips before he slammed into her. Imani let out a sudden yelp and clenched her eyes shut, his cock filling her in one thrust. She moaned and panted, ignorant and blind to the fact that he had just killed a man for her honor. She pressed her lips against his, tasting the blood from her bite humming darkly at the metallic flavor. The wooden bed squeaked as he stroked inside of her, not as fast as he could have but as much as he knew she could take. His murderous hands gripping her hips tightly, leaving purple bruises on her dark skin that no one would ever see. He glanced down to watch his cock, slick with her wetness as he stroked in and out of her quick and fast._

_“Fuck!” He hissed, feeling her nails scratch down his back and he knew that she had drawn lines of blood. Sandor wasn’t above murdering for her, and if he had to he knew he would do it again and that he was far too deep and it was her kitten claws that had a hold of him._

* * *

 

_ He wanted to drink, he wanted to drown in it, poison himself with wine, and ale. Anything would be better than thinking about what he had done. _

_Imani Xe was gone and she would **never** come back. Not after what he had done to her. He kept going over it, over and over and over like some perfect torture. Her wide eyes in the hall when he told her that he never wanted to see her again, how he grabbed her by her frail arm, squeezing it, hurting her. How her pretty face looked, confused in agony as she tried to figure out what she had done to make him suddenly hate her. How he could never tell her the truth, because his pride wouldn’t let him. What would she think if him if he actually told her the reason?_

_She would for sure think him a cowardish fool, a little boy still scared of his brother. His hateful lips could never admit it that fact. A Clegane brother would hurt her, that was true. It had to be him, it had to be. Gregor would eventually make good on that promise to beat and rape her just because he gained delight out of tormenting Sandor. He could have killed any other man that would even dare threat such a thing...but not Gregor. A barking dog could not bring down a mountain. To protect her, he had to hurt her but it didn’t make it any better._

_He sat there on the floor of his chambers drinking, one cup after another; looking for numbness at the bottom each but found only more pain. His eyes stared at his bed, remembering how she looked asleep in it, her braids a mess on his pillows, lost in dream and sleep._

_"Sandor…"_

_A thousand knives and hundred swords couldn’t measure the agony that he felt. The only good thing in his life he had ruined, burned and killed--like everything else._

_“I’m a fucking coward.” Sandor uttered in the dark. There was the blinding pain of the realization that he would possibly never see her again, that the single flicker of light he had ever had in his life was exchanged. He felt physically ill, due to the pain and alcohol them mixing to sickliness in his gut. He tried to stand to his feet, needing more to drink but in his drunken self-loathing he fell to his knees. With a choke, he vomited profusely on the floor. Sandor groaned and sat back against the wall, the room off balance, puke dribbling from his lips. With a sudden crack of his voice, he started to cry. Holding his face as he sobbed, revolted in himself for what he had done to the only person in the world to give a shit about him._

* * *

 

_Their faces were nothing alike. One was pale, the other was dark. One had hair the color of raven feathers while the other’s hair spoke of fire flames. A child of summer the other the daughter to cold. Only a madman could see the similarities between them, for such a thing was a talent most men didn’t possess. The ability to point out the parallels that were mirrored between opposite beauties. The slope of a long neck, a blank gentle stare, delicate wrists, a twitch of a bottom lip. The wrinkle of arched brows, matted eyelashes, wet eyes although vastly different shape and color asking the same question._

_"What did I do to deserve this?”_

_Sandor didn’t really care much about Sansa Stark at first, she was a pretty little thing, that would one day make a beautiful woman who would have to suffer the prince. Somehow through his pain and trauma he had locked Imani Xe away. She was a bird in a cage, kept and hid in the darkest parts of his mind. The same place he kept the sister whose face he could never recall. He had begged to be numb from the slicing and gutting pain of losing her and he was granted just that. it was as if he killed her, strangled every imaginable version of her summer form and buried them deep._

_Yet, somehow pale and red Sansa Stark with her tears and face so much like her's when crying had unearthed Imani. A horrible little gravedigger, pulling up long buried horror instead of putting them where they should rest._

_The Hound hated her for it, she the pretty fool had breathed life into something he had tried so hard to forget with just her whimper and tears._

_Finding the girls door unbolted, in a drunken haze he would open it when the Red Keep slept, finding her lost to her nightmares, pink cheeks still wet from the tears that she shed when she cried herself to sleep. Every night, he figured, every night. In closed eyed silence, Sandor saw that they even slept the same on their backs barely breathing as if dropped to dream due to poison. Much like he did with the long darling Xe’s he would check in on the Stark girl in the night, feeling drawn to. His confusing actions repeating themselves from Xe to Stark. From pretty Sansa to wild Arya. Through his hate, torment and pain, Sandor liked to think that even Imani’s love had faded for him a tiny bit of her would grow warm if she saw him protecting two other sisters._

_And that was worth something...._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I was going to tell this like Sandor was actually going through and telling the Elder Brother about Imani but the flash backs worked better. Lol. You guys know how much I LOVE my fucking flashbacks.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry, for the delay on this, I have been going through some personal things. This is a short chapter, but don't worry it's leading to something pretty awesome.

The markets that stood in the shadow of the limestone palace were always full of throbbing life and vigor. Merchants yelled out their prices, shoppers haggled and there was the usual noise of tropical life. The loud and bright birds sung perching their colorful bodies on any roof they could find. The salty, warm breeze rustled the large, fanned leaves of the palm trees, children’s high, sunny voices called out in native tongue as they played.

“Princess, if you wanted to look at jewelry we could have had them come to you.”  Jahar Zo said with a sigh as a bead of sweat gathered on his dark brow. He kept his hand gripped at the pole of his staff as Imani looked over the beaded jewelry of a young merchant.

“It’s nice to get out from those walls sometimes,” Imani said as she picked up a detailed necklace, strung with more than a hundred tiny white and red beads. “I have you here to protect me."

Jahar when to part his lips but stopped when Imani spoke before he could get a word out of his mouth.

"How much for this?”

The jewelers eyes widened, and his words got lost for a second behind his quivering throat. “I--I couldn’t ask for a single scrap of gold from you, Noysed Parpel.”

Imani tilted her head slightly and granted him a warm smile and shook her head.“How much would you ask for it,” she lifted up the necklace allowing the burning summer sunlight to catch the on the opalescent beads. “...If I wasn’t a princess?” The jeweler plucked at his palm nervously.

“Around twenty gold, but-”

Imani put her hand up to silence him and then she glanced over to Jahar Zo. “Pay him three times that much.” Imani demand with a warm, but a matter of fact smile as she put the necklace on and went to leave the merchant's shop. As she went to step across the stone and wood threshold she was startled when she looked down and saw a child standing in her way. The dirty blonde little girl didn’t seem to be from the summer isles, far too pale to withstand the hot sunlight, which had already burned the child's cheeks leaving them a rough red. The girl looked up at Imani with glassy green eyes. In her grimy, little hands she clenched a rolled up scroll tightly to her chest. Her glare was fixed upon Imani, her eyes darting across Imani's face as if checking her features from a description given.

Finally after narrowing her eyes, the girl spoke. “The spider sends word of your dog,” she handed out the scroll, her little eyes still studying the woman in front of her.Imani’s eyes widened and her gut twisted into violent knots as she quickly reached out and yanked the parchment from the child's small hands. Just as quick as she came, the child turned around and as quickly as she came, the child was gone back outside into the crowd of shoppers.

* * *

When Ekua stepped foot into the council chamber she was startled to see Imani in a frantic frenzy. The round wood table was covered in yellowed maps and books. Imani standing there, unrolling each map as quick as she could then her black eyes would stare down at it, darting around to realize it wasn't what she was looking for.

“What are you doing?” Ekua asked, watching Imani push a map off of the table that she didn’t need, leaving it to join the other unwanted ones onto a pile on the floor. After another second of glancing over another rolled piece of parchment, Imani finally glanced up at her older sister. Wet sudden tears pooling on the surface of her eyes, and once she blinked they trailed down her brown, hot cheeks.

“I need to find the map of The Eyrie,” she said, her voice cracking. Ekua gave her a concerned flash of a look and wondered if she should take a step towards her. Judging by the anxious and almost panicked expression Imani had on her face gave her sister pause. There was something frantic and coiled about her in that moment. Perfect blunt teeth gritted into a semblance of a crazed smile, hands shaking, eyes wide.

“Why?” Ekua questioned, her tone now more worried than confused at her sister’s odd behavior. Imani paused, flicking one black braid out of her eyes before she reached her hand between her two breasts, which were held closely by the tight fabric of her bright orange gown and pulled out the rolled up scroll. Without a word, she tossed it underhanded to Ekua, who caught it before it landed and hit the table. With an arched questioning eyebrow, she looked at the scroll and then back to her sister before she unrolled it.

 _Princess Imani Xe, of Isle_ Omboru _,_

 _This will be our last correspondence as you now know I’m far from the Iron Throne, but even here my birds still send whispers. The strings that I pull on tell me that there is_ word _of a man matching your violent dog's description in the Quiet Isles. I can not guarantee that this man is your hound but do what you will this whisper, but know that Westeros is filled with danger more than before, winter comes from the north and dying lions are being choked by thorns over thrones. The Red Dragon will soon fly and spread its wings over Westeros._

Ekua blinked and looked up at Imani, who was waiting to hear what she had to say. With a sigh the elder sister shook her head slowly and then dropped the scroll to the table.

“You want to run off to Westeros to find him?”

“Aye,” Imani went back to rummaging with the maps, “I need to know where the Quiet Isle is.”

“You can’t just...leave,” Ekua said and Imani ignored her, finally finding the map that she needed. “Imani, do you hear me? You can’t just run off,” she walked around the large table, closing the distance between them within a few desperate strides and grabbed Imani by her bony shoulders and shook her. “You’re not a child! You’re not a little girl anymore! You have responsibilities to your people, you’re a fucking ruler you can’t just run off!” The yellowed, parchment map slipped from Imani’s hand and onto the stone floor.

“The father of my child might be out there! I--”

“Why do you care? Why!? He hurt you, he hurt you, Imani. Why don’t you understand that?” Ekua said, her voice cracking frantically. It had been years since they left Westeros yet Imani still clung to the dog that had bit and turned on her so long ago.

Imani didn’t struggle to get out of her sister's grasp, only staring at her with a sure as stone expression.

“If you could see Dahar one more time are you saying you wouldn’t?” Her simple question like a million blade into her sister's heart.

“Don’t try to make my late husband’s death the same as this, it isn’t the same.” Ekua hissed gripping her little sister's shoulders tighter.

“It is, what makes your love for Dahar different than my love for Sandor?” Imani asked, tears now pooling on the surface of her black eyes. “I need to see if this man is him…”

“And what if you go all that find out that isn’t your dog? What then?” Ekua asked, watching the sad smile come across Imani’s lips at the possibility.

“Then to me he's dead, but I need to know,” Imani reached up and touched her sister's hand. “I **need** to know for sure or I will go insane with the question of ‘what if?’

Ekua let out a heavy sigh and hung her head, realizing that her sister was right. She would go mad with the possibilities in her head. The ideas of things that could have been if she went, it would consume her even more than her current lust, love, and anger regarding Sandor had already done. Ekua could see her, crumbling, tears in her eyes as she wasted away with guilt and sorrow.

“It’s dangerous, Imani...King’s Landing is crumbling, there are rumors of horrible things from past The Wall.” Ekua took Imani’s right hand and held it tightly, her black lashes pointing downward as she shook her head. “I will never understand you, sister. My dear, dear sister. You have always been the darling of us all. I can not stop you, but I will say one thing to you,” she blinked up and stared in her black eyes. “If you never come back, then that means your child won’t just be missing her father, she will lose her mother as well…”

“That won’t happen,” Imani said, her voice clipped and short as she glanced back down to the map her eyes landing on the small slice of land labeled ‘The Quiet Isles’

 

 


	36. Chapter 36

_ The sound of perfect, pearly teeth biting through the sweet fruit was almost lewd and sexual to his ears. Sandor could feel the heat between her two, warm, dark thighs as they rested in his large lap. Moments of peaceful silence like this were odd to him, a breeze fluttered into her chambers carrying the watered smell of the bay into the room.  _

_ “Is this what you do back in the isles, lounge around all day?” Sandor asked, and Imani let out a sigh as she sucked the mango juice from her delicate fingers and looked at him.  _

_ “Oh? Am I boring you, Sandor Clegane?” she said with a twitch of a smile in the corners of her full lips. She pulled one of her legs back, allowing the tan soles of her feet to rub against his crotch. He smirked and glanced over at her, the deep orange hue of the sunset lit the side of her face brilliantly. The large, red feather in her high-piled braids dropped slightly, allowing for such perfect dishevelment that it almost made him grit his teeth in frustration. Everything about her in that second made him hate her in the most adoring way.  _

_ “No, you’re not,” Sandor grunted, his voice rough as she continued to rub her foot on his crotch. He watched as she grinned, feeling his hard cock through the fabric of his breeches. The lovely cat was good at toying with her snarling dog.  _

_ “I didn’t think so.” Imani purred, fanning her toes and then squeezing. Sandor gritted his teeth and let out a growl. Picking up another mango from the golden bowl that was resting in her lap she took a sharp knife and cut it in half. He watched as she sliced lines into the center long ways and then short. She pushed on the fleshy skin of the fruit, causing it to flip inside out. Imani plucked out a few of the little cubes and leaned forward. The top off her silken gown slipped down, exposing one dark nipple to Sandor’s hungry glare.  _

_With her sticky fingers she reached up and slipped the mango slice into his mouth. The sweetly, tart taste hit his tongue, causing him to let out a throated growl. Before Imani could pull her hand away Sandor grabbed her bony wrist, sucking the juice off of her finger tips. With a strong tug, he pulled her into his lap, the bowl of fruit hitting the floor with a loud, clear ping that they both ignored. Imani straddled him, her crotch grinding against his, her sticky fingers leaving smudges on his armor as she pawed at him._

_ The heat of her mouth made him moan as she kissed him roughly, her teeth bumping against his lips. His large hands gripped her ass, rocking her even more vigorously on his throbbing cock. Imani was about to pull away and attempt to undo the laces of his breeches, but Sandor suddenly pushed her off of him. Her highly piled hair came undone, and her braids dropped over her face like a black curtain. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed her by her ankles and pulled her to the very edge of the bed. The bottom of her gown bunched up around her waist as Sandor pulled her thighs apart and got to his knees.  _

_ “Spread your cunt,” he demanded, and Imani bit her lip before doing what he asked. She slipped her hands between her legs and parted herself. Sandor smirked at the sight of her, pink and wet for him. “Put a finger inside and fuck yourself." _

_ Imani let out a small yet panting whimper at the request, not so much as in protest but rather with lewd excitement. Her middle finger slipped inside with ease and he watched as she touched herself. She put her index finger in next, working them both in and out, slowly but deliberately, arching her back and letting out hot, honeyed moans. Feeling his cock now painfully hard, Sandor pulled her hand away and replaced it with his mouth. _

_“Ah!” Imani squeaked, the feeling of his rough beard against her smooth thighs causing a shiver to run up and down her summer spine. His large hands stayed on her thighs, keeping them obscenely wide as he licked and sucked at her cunt. Imani sat up on her elbows, reaching down she grabbed his head, her fingers gripping at his brown wavy hair. Her toes curled, and she let out a long moan as he flicked the sensitive bud right above her entrance. Sandor groaned as her wetness slipped passed his lips. Sharp intakes of breath left Imani's lips; her fingers gripped his hair as she pushed herself against his lips, wiggling greedily on his tongue._

_ He glanced up to see her eyes clenched shut, lips slightly parted and quivering. “Ah! Sandor!” she yelped when he slipped a finger inside, forcing her to arch her back. Imani’s black eyes rolled in her sockets as the jolting, shivering spark finally snapped from her core. She yanked at his hair as she came hard against his mouth, her nectar sloppy against his vulgar lips and he drank it as if it wine from a goblet. Sandor finally lifted his head, the rough hair of his beard slick with her. Imani laid there, sucking in wet gulps of air, her eyelids were heavy and her mouth was twitched into a small smirk.  _

_ The Hound licked his lips and undid the buckles of his armor, watching her chest heave up and down with afterglow. “I’m going to have you sore, my lady.” _

_ “Good.”  _

\----

The salty smell of the sea washes over her, the wind blew across her dark face and in reaction she narrowed her onyx eyes. Imani took a bite of the mango she was eating, the juice running down her lips as she stared out over the blue waters of the Summer Sea. Wiping  her chin with the back of her black, leather gloved hand, the fingertips of which were capped with sharp polished gold like cat claws. She was not dressed in a silken gown but rather thick smooth leather and gold armor. The center of her chest piece bore three lines painted in deep purple, the lines had been clawed from the actual claw of a panther to bless her armor to protect from harm. 

That same black cat had been sacrificed in a ceremony. The arcane Xe belief was that the animal's soul would fill the current ruler, devouring their fear. Its pelt covered her shoulders, its bones now making up her daggers and jewelry, its blood mixed with purple powders and crushed to sand to make her face paint. Her father's staff was heavy on her back, but she wore the weapon anyway while one her Swan Ship. There standing on the wooden deck, stripped of silk Imani Xe seemed formidable. She was in the company of fifteen hired swords from The Golden Company, all of which she requested to be originally from Westeros as they would better know the quickly chilling landscape. 

“You remind me so much of your mother.” Donho Quxdus said from behind her. Imani flicked the skin of the eaten mango into the sea before she turned to face him. He stood there, a warm smile that would only grant to a daughter of the Princess Sauda. Imani had insisted that her navel commander stay behind on the island just in case something happened but he simply refused, giving his second in command full power while he was gone. He had protected her mother countless times on her journeys around the world and he was determined to do the same for her daughter. This was far from the princesses first visit to the north, this was his ruler searching for someone who was considered an enemy to The Seven Kingdoms. These were dark times, winter was coming, Kings Landing was coming undone, dragons flew and there were whispers of dark things from far, far north. Donho refused to let her go without his protection.

“Do I really seem like her now?” Imani asked, looking over the railing of the ship out at sea. 

“Aye, my princess you do,” he glanced down at the golden, claws tipping her fingers. “And a dangerous cat.” They both laughed and then went silent for a moment. He watched Imani’s arched brows frown as she looked down into the water. “What was the saying she always said? You know the one…”

“For the night is dark and full of terrors,” Imani whispered.

“Aye, that’s the one. She learned it from her time in Asshai...she learned many things there,” he uttered. “I suspect such a knowledge could be passed on from mother-daughter.” 

Imani blinked at his words and only slowly nodded, of course, he knew about her dabbling in things she shouldn’t, spending time in her mother's tower, surrounded by her books, glass candles, dagger in hand, bleeding to see. 

“I remember when we sailed to go to this Tourney at Harrenhal, Lord Whent's great tournament. It was the grandest tourney I had ever seen, anyone who was anyone was there. The damn things lasted ten days.” He said.

“That’s when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen crowned Lyanna Stark the Queen of Love and Beauty,” Imani said it was a famed event that most high borns knew of even if they were not from the Seven Kingdoms. Lyanna Stark was the woman that a war was fought over after Rhaegar kidnapped her a later, the war ended the Targaryen rule and that single act of crowning her was saw as the start of the downfall by many.

“He rode right past his own wife, Elia Martell and gave the Stark girl those blue roses,” Donho said, shaking his head. The mention of Elia made Imani wince, remembering what Gregor Clegane had done to her during the Sack of King’s Landing. Donho let out a small chuckle and then stroked his face, his dark eyes looking out through the miles and miles of water. Parting his lips he paused, his mind obviously thinking way back to that famed tourney.

“It didn’t hit my mind until recently,” he started, and Imani tilted her head in curiosity. “I was walking with your mother and father to the stands, to watch the joust. There were so many men and women who were staring at her as she walked by,” he chuckled, and then looked at Imani. “You have that too, her beauty...but in her, it was unsettling somehow.” 

Imani remembered her mother's face, most visibly her eyes. They were light, hazel and contrast to her almost ebony skin they were stunning and haunting. 

“We were walking,“ he continued. “and someone stepped on the tail end of her gown. She turned around and there was this boy, he was tall, but his face told me that he had to be no older than ten. He had this scraggly brown hair, and you feel the hate rising off of him like a fire, yet when he went to look at your mother he couldn’t meet her eyes...like most people couldn’t. Yet you could tell this boy hadn’t been looked in his eyes in a long time.” Donho looked back at her. “The boy uttered a pathetic of an excuse of an apology to her and walked around us, and you mother said nothing she stared at him.”

“Donho I don’t understand…”

“Then your father asked me ‘did you see his face?’" Donho's lips twitched as he recalled the memory. "Because half of it was mangled with burns.” 

Imani’s eyes winded and she clasped her hands over her mouth in shock, her heart leaping into her throat. 

“Afterward, your mother said ‘Aye, that one is a killer’ I will always remember the way she said it, like fact.”

“The man we seek, Princess Mereya father he’s burnt isn’t he?” he asked and Imani slowly nodded, still dizzy from imagining Sandor meeting the eyes of her mother years before she was even born. “Odd thing, don’t you fancy?” Donho asked before leaving Imani speechless and nothing short of stunned.

\----

 

_ He was uncomfortable in his own adolescent skin, what horrible skin it was. Growing like a weed he was far too big to be seen as a child anymore, even though he actually was nothing more than a boy still. Sandor was not paying any attention to where he was going. His shadowy eyes distracted by the colorful banners that blew in the spring air of houses far greater than his own, hatefully the broken boy cursed them all. _

_Young Sandor did not want to be there, he care nothing about the tourney but was forced to attend with his father and his brother. The thought of Gregor turned his gut and made the burns at the side of his face heat out of scorned memory. A pretty girl with red of hair fluttered past him in the sunlight, she didn’t look at him pretty things never did but he looked at her. Turning his head to watch her walk away, her hair flowing behind her back. Suddenly Sandor heard a ripping noise, turning back he looked down to see that his boot was on top of a long strip of embroidered golden fabric._

_ “Aye, boy!” An accented voice snapped at him. Boy, he hated to be called that. Curling his lip, Sandor glanced up but his hateful eyes did not meet the face of the man who had just yelled at him but rather he saw a woman.  _

_ The snarl at his lips slipped away, the bright sunlight behind her head was sliced as it slipped through the colorful feathers that adorned her headpiece. Being a Westerland boy he had no idea that people like her existed, in his own childish ignorance, he assumed that only white skin existed and yet a woman with black skin stared down at him, not brown but actually ebony. Sandor was shocked by the lightness of her eyes, so brightly brown that they seemed almost yellow in hue. The woman’s tightly coiled sandy hair was also striking against her dark skin as well. He couldn’t fathom it, but something about the woman put a coil of fear in him, no fear that she could harm him physically but there a certain feeling surrounded her. Her eyes were like blades that sliced into him, people almost always stared at his horrible burns but not this woman. She was staring directly into his eyes as if trying to find something behind them.  _

_ “Boy!” The man's voice called again and Sandor became aware of the two other people next to her. He blinked and looked over to a leathered armored man, who was adorned in feathers as well. He had his hand on his curved sword as if ready to draw on the child. “Remove your foot.” he hissed and Sandor quickly did as he was told his eyes flickering over to the other man that stood there as well. He was tall, thin, his hair braided closely to his scalp. Sandor had never seen a man wear such bright colors, reds, golds and most of all brilliant purples made of fine silks. On the tall man's back, he carried a long bladed staff. The men didn’t scare him, but that woman and her bright eyes did. Sandor swallowed, his lips twitching nervously before he quickly spoke. _

_ “Pardon me, my lady,” he spat quickly, the guard at her side was about to part his lips but the woman raised her hand to silence him. Sandor looked down and then swiftly walked away too nervous to glance back.  _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imani is going to meet someone next chapter....but who?


	37. Chapter 37

Her fingers stroked a stain of her dyed black hair, lifting the color from it, staining her pale fingertips and exposing a hint of the fire red underneath. Sansa’s pale eyes glanced over to Petyr Baelish as they sat in the carriage that was taking her somewhere, he still hadn’t told her the truth as to where their destination was. Her lips curled involuntarily as she looked at him, he was disgusting to her, slick and slippery like an eel. Yet even though she despised him, in all of his snakelike ways she knew for now she was safe with him, as safe as she could be. Sansa let out a small sigh and closed her eyes.

**Safe. Safe. Safe.**

The word like a heartbeat in her brain.

_I’ll keep you safe.”_

Her mind had conjured Sandor’s rough voice, taking her back to the night that the Blackwater burned with green flames and she had the chance to leave King’s Landing with him. He had stood there, towering over her, his face bloody and hair wet with rain. Offering her a chance to finally leave that horrible place. In her fear, she said ‘no’ but now if she could go back she would have gladly left with him. Sometimes she dreamt about it, fleeing King’s Landing with him, and where she would be in that moment if she had. With Sandor Clegane, she would have been truly safe, not the lie and deception she had in the company of Littlefinger. She was a pawn, a piece of whatever plan Baelish had and Sansa was more than aware of it. She knew that if she was with The Hound he would have murdered and bleed to keep her guarded. Yet, not all of Sansa’s thought of Sandor Clegane involved him keeping her virtue intact. Red hot daydreams had filled her mind as well, moments that would never happen but she indulged in thinking of  anyway. She wondered what he would have done if she asked him to take her. Out of all the men in all of the kingdoms Sansa Stark wished that the violent Hound would be the one to deflower her. Idle dry daydreams.

* * *

The large inn was almost empty minus Lord Baelish’s knights. Sansa said nothing, as she watched him eat his bowl of stew across from her, the mockingbird pin at his neck catching the window light. They had been traveling for a two days, from Runestone to where ever they were headed and she was relieved that they would be stopping for the night. She wanted nothing more than her own room to get away from her glorified captor.

“Not talkative, I see,” Baelish said, glancing up at her. The way he looked at her made her skin crawl, the eyes of a man who lusted after her dead mother and saw only Catelyn Tully when he stared, not at her but rather through her.

“Nothing to talk about,” Sansa said, before taking a drink of her water. There was the unmistakable thunderous thumps of horse hooves on the dirt outside of the large inn. Sansa turned her head towards the window and looked out. The horsemen held no banners and had no unifying armor that gave away who they rode for. Littlefinger narrowed eyes and stared out at the riders as well, and as quickly has he interest peaked it was gone just as fast. 

“Sellswords,” he uttered but Sansa kept looking out watching as one man dismounted his horse. His dark skin gave away that he was a foreigner from the Summer Isles, that wasn’t the strange part as most free-rider companies were made up of people from all over the known word. What peaked Sansa’s interest was the rider he was approaching, a slim hooded figure, who was cloaked in bright purple and had as well a black animal pelt draped at the shoulders. By the lines of the body, Sansa realized that the rider was no man. The woman sat on her white horse and waved her gloved hand that was tipped with golden claws as she gave orders. The many dangerous mercenaries that surrounded her were under her contact and control, a hint of envy rippled through Sansa. To control must have been an empowering thing that she had never tasted. The woman’s cloak slipped open revealing something that sat between her legs, Sansa’s heart jumped behind her tongue when she saw the metal, snarling snout of The Hound’s helmet. The unknown woman put her hand gently down between the pointed ears and patted it as if the metal was an actual animal as she continued to talk to one of her men. Sansa could imagine the  sound of the odd sharpened, golden claws on the worn steel. 

Confused and hazy thoughts clouded Sansa’s  her mind. How did she acquire his helmet, why did she even have it? Who was she and why did everything inside of Sansa tell her that she needed to find out the answers to those flickering questions?

* * *

A deadly silence had dropped over the night, not a single sound throughout the inn but Sansa laid in the rented bed, her light eyes staring up at the stone ceiling unable to stop thinking about that woman, her bright purple cloak, the hidden face, golden claws stroking the steel of Sandor Clegane's helmet in an oddly loving way. The night that Stannis tried to take King’s Landing when he showed up in her chambers, she didn’t remember him having his helm with him meaning he never took it from the city when he fled in the night. The question still throbbed like a pulse inside of Sansa as she laid there, how did a faceless woman come to have that? Who was she?

Suddenly the silence was gone when Sansa heard light footsteps down the hall, she quickly got up and moved towards the door. There was no shuffling or clanging of armor that accompanied the footsteps. Sansa opened the peephole and squinted out. Through the dim orange candlelight, she saw the hooded woman walk past her door, obviously unaware that she was being watched. In a sharp, thick impulse that was far more of something that her lost little sister would do, acting without thinking and damning consequence Sansa Stark quickly unbolted her door and opened it. 

The woman stopped at the sound but didn’t turn around to face her. Sansa’s pale lips moved once again, before thinking. “I saw what you have. That helmet, it belongs to Sandor Clegane how--” before her words could finish, the shadowy figure turned around quickly, the hood falling down to expose a face in the dim light. The woman grabbed Sansa and pushed her up against the cold stone wall, brandishing a golden handled bone dagger in her small thin hand, the sharp tip poking against Sansa’s pale neck and in fear she closed her eyes and shook. 

“How do you know of the man I seek?” The woman asked, her accent thick and flowery, like a hot island day. Sansa slowly opened her eyes to see the woman’s face, and within the tiny space between her wolf heartbeat, she knew exactly who she was. 

" _I--I--had a woman once….”_

In the hall of the Red Keep he had mentioned her, this beautiful creature while he was drunk and dizzy with alcohol. 

_ “She was a pretty little stargazer...like you….” _

Heat flooded Sansa’s pale cheeks, causing them to burn pink as she looked at the woman. 

_“Eyes of onyx and skin like night….”_

“I--I--know who you are,” Sansa finally was able to utter, as she stared at Imani Xe for the first time. She had imagined the girl that Sandor saw in her many times, but to put a face to his sorrow was surreal. She was his tangible pain, his hurt, his regret, living breathing, right there, shockingly dark and beautiful. Endless Summer, burning sunlight, Sandor Clegane’s last joy. Imani blinked and lowered her dagger, her black eyes staring deep into Sansa’s as if seething through sand trying to find a certain pebble. With a tilt of her head, a wrinkle of her arched brow and a twitch of the lip Sansa finally realized what it was. Their features were nothing alike, parallel lines, never meant to cross, opposites in every way except one. Their expressions, the flicker of the eyes, the pout of the lips, there was the same sweetness in both of them, like overlapping ripples on a glassy pond. Suddenly, Imani reached up her hand, running a finger through Sansa’s hair. She looked down at her hand and saw the black stain of the dye left behind.

“Little bird,” Imani whispered the words like a sudden punch in Sansa’s chest. Her eyes widened as she stared at Imani, feeling her pulse quick and throbbing.

“How did you--?”

“I know lots of things in regards to Sandor Clegane…” Imani looked down and a surprisingly kind and sweet smile came to her lips as if recalling something before she blinked back up to her. “Sansa of House Stark.” 

Her name on Imani’s lips sounded like lemon sugar, honest and gentle even though she had just threatened her with a blade. It was obvious to Sansa what he saw her, that warmth, the beauty, the charm. She had the same pulling feeling that Sansa recalled from Margaery Tyrell, drawing people to her like flittering wings to a flickering flame. 

“You said you know who I am, how?” Imani asked, tilting her head again with curiosity. 

“He mentioned a woman like you once,” Sansa said, the moments oddly similar, him drunk and mean cornering her in a hallway. Her at first threatening, but now pleasant and coaxing cornering her in a hallway. Sansa’s face burned a deeper red, as she looked at Imani’s lips, those lips had kissed him possibly countless times. She had wished while the Black Water burned that he would have kissed her, and even tried to convince herself that he did.

“Did he now?” Imani chuckled, she had never imagined that he would ever mention her to anyone. 

“Are you looking for him?” 

“Aye, girl. I am.” Imani said, noticing Sansa’s concern.

“If you find him….” Sansa looked away. “If you find him, please tell him I said thank you,” she looked back at Imani her eyes subconsciously admiring the lovely lines of her dark face. “He protected me while I was there I would have…” Sansa shook her head. “Horrible things would have happened to me if he wasn’t there to save me,” she uttered. Imani smiled, and with a sudden flutter in her belly Sansa felt those summer lips meet her winter ones culminating in spring. It shocked her but didn’t nor wanted to push Imani away. Kissing The Hound through the lips of the cat as if Imani could read the confusing feeling she had for him. Imani pulled away, yet lingered close for a second feeling Sansa’s panting breath mingle with hers.

“I feel that he would want to give you that,” she whispered. “You be careful Little Bird.” And with that Imani left quickly heading down the hallway, leaving Sansa stunned face a flame yet oddly with a tiny glint of peace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, of course I had to do this. Imani and Sansa would have been in the same area given that Runestone and the largest port city in the Eyrie Gultown are really close altogether. Meaning they are literally on the same path for a while, Sansa heading north while Imani is heading slightly south. 
> 
> So, I couldn't pass up the chance for Imani to meet Sansa.


	38. Chapter 38

_He fixed her with his smoky glare, lowering his brow before licking his top lip slowly. Sandor was aware of how he looked at her, not the adoring eyes of a girls_ daydream _fairy tale knight looking at her with utter care, but rather his eyes kept a glare even on her. Like shape blades fixated and darkly enamored on the simplest details of her dark face. The arch of her black brows, the cut of a cheek bone, the wisps of baby hair that laid as fine as down on her forehead._

_ “You are such a pretty thing,” Sandor said, the compliment sounding rather menacing due to the low, rough tone of his voice. Yet,  Imani only smiled as she looked up at him, her head resting in his large lap. Sandor stared down at the beauty, his long brown hair dangling in a way that obscured most of his face. With a sweet, pearly smile, Imani reached up and started to twirl a strand of his hair around one slim finger.  _

_ “Aye? Is that so?” she purred. _

_ “Take the compliment, my lady and don’t fish for more,” Sandor chuckled lowly. Playfully Imani bit her bottom lip and traced her finger down his non-mangled cheek, noticing how he slightly and most likely subconsciously tilted his head into her warm touch. Suddenly he reached up and grabbed her wrist, causing her to whimper from shock. Sandor gritted his teeth and gripped her by her chin with his other hand, forcing her to look at him. Once again he stared at her, almost with a glowering expression. Tensing his jaw, as if his eyes were trying to figure out the arrangement of her face, trying to reason and rationalize her dark beauty. Yet, could not explain how such a creature existed and why she willingly gave herself to him. The beautiful, darling with the eyes and body like night who laid and played with a snarling beast. Such stories ended up with the foolish maiden dying due to the monsters claws.To Imani’s surprise, he traced his thumb across her full lips a hum, as if agreeing with a silent thought he was having. _

_ “Do you know, that men would kill each other just to touch someone like you? Yet, here you are, with your pretty little head in my lap.” There was a hint of smugness in his dark tone underlining the word ‘my’.  Imani closed her eyes and gently fluttered her hand to her chest and smiled, in that way that she did when she was pleased or flattered. _

_ “Aye, yet here I am,” she said, slowly pulling up the silk of her thin gown. Sandor watched, and the smooth fabric inched up, exposing her smooth brown legs. He let out a groan when she stopped just shy of exposing herself to him. With a kittenish wiggle of her hips, she smiled and licked her lips, fervently-- the act causing him to grow slightly hard.  _

_ “Would you kill a man for me?” Imani asked, still lewdly rocking her hips. Sandor clenched his jaw and yanked her up, forcing her to straddle his lap. He grabbed her by her chin once more, causing her lips to part and slightly jut forward like a surprised goldfish. Many times he had been ordered to kill for people, ordered to do horrible things but in her he found the urge to murder out of pure passion. The things he would do for her would make her ill if she knew, such horror he could cause for those bony wrists and warm summer skin  _

_ “You ask me something even though you already know the answer," He said, pulling her closer. Their lips just shy of brushing and he could smell the lingering sweetness of plum wine on her hot breath. _

_ “Sometimes hearing is believing, **Ser…** ” she smiled, wickedly adding the title of knights that he despised so much to get a rise out of him, and between her thighs she found that it worked just as planned. His cock now fully at attention, poking at her. Imani let out a small pained whimper when he crushed his lips against her’s violently, nipping at her smooth flesh.  _

_ “The lady is trying to make me mad, eh?” he hissed reaching between her legs, his fingers finding the already wet, hot hollow. Imani moaned as he as he slipped them inside of her, causing her to arch her back. Desperately she bucked her hips, fucking herself on his fingers. A silken strap of her gown dropped off of her shoulder, exposing one of her brown breasts. He watched with delight as the nipple hardened at the dank chill of his chambers. Sandor pushed her down on the bed, and before Imani knew it he was ripping at her gown, tearing it from her body like a monster.  _

_ “Call me Ser will you?” he said as he unlaced his breeches, and held her legs open. Imani let out a loud excited moan as he rubbed the tip of his cock against her cunt and pushed into her with one single, sharp thrust. She almost screamed, but she bit her lip to stifle the sound. “Is this what you wanted?” Sandor growled, parting her legs obscenely wide as fucked her. _

_ “Aye! Aye! Aye!” She yelped, her voice cracking. _

_ The posts of the wooden bed slammed against the stone wall, as he stroked in and out of her roughly. Imani grabbed and yanked at the bed sheets, her eyes rolling in the back of her head. The full, deep feeling of him inside of her had a small hint of pain to it, but it was overshadowed by the bloom of pleasure it caused. Sandor’s wild eyes watched as her breast bounced with each push of his hips. Dewy sweat started to dampen her smooth skin, collecting on her brow and under his palms where he gripped her hips. The lude, wet, slick sound of him slipping in and out of her filled the dank air.  _

_ “Do it,” he ordered, roughly rubbing the swollen bud above her slick, dripping twat with one of his thumbs.“Finish.”  _

_ Imani’s lips twisted, panted, her toes fanning into the cool sheets. He felt her quiver and tighten around his throbbing cock. Imani shuttered his name, it sounding like a sweet, wet splatter from her lips and she twitched under him. Sandor kept trusting, sweat dripping down his brow before he let out a deep groan, pulling out of her as quick as he could, sticking her upper thigh with his white seed. Imani let out a small pleased hum, as Sandor rested his face against the crook of her dewy neck. The heat of his breath steaming her skin, to his surprise he felt the softness of her lips as she kissed the burned and mangled side of his face gently. _

_ “Come with me…” she whispered, her fingers now adoringly playing in the waves of his brown hair. He pulled away and looked at her, assessing her face, finding her completely sincere.  She had said it before, made promises of beaches, blue water and peace. All things violent hounds didn’t know and the last was something he couldn’t understand. _

_ “I’ve told you, that will never be for me...old dogs don’t learn new tricks _

* * *

“My princess? Princess Imani?” Donho Quxdus called, yanking Imani out of her distant memory that seemed so long ago. More like decades past rather than just years. She blinked her black eyes, once, twice, three times, rubbing her forehead slowly. Imani noticed that she felt quite odd, off-balance in a way. The ends of her fingertips buzzing with numbness. Donho moved his horse to directly in front of her and gave her a confused look. “...Are you alright?”

Finally, Imani’s eyes flickered up to him. His face was tightened and he wore an expression that she had never seen from him,  an honest and deep concern. The ex-pirate lord and commander of Xe navy didn’t have much of a reason to wear a worried face. Battle nor death feared him and to see him direct unease towards her was unsettling.

“Aye, I’m fine.” she nodded her head quickly His dark eyes watched her warily as her body swayed side to side almost drunkenly, the burnt brown color of her skin seeming washed out, and tinted with a gloom.

“Not much further, the Isle should be another ten miles or so," Donho said looking out towards the distant horizon.

“Good.” Imani tilted her head up to the grey, clouded sky. “This is getting rather exhausting.”

* * *

The loud thunderous sound caused the old wandering septon to pause, turned his head to the west and his old eyes saw what was making the impending noise. Hoofs pounding into the dirt, as bannerless riders approached him. He had been around long enough to notice the urgency as they got closer. With one hand up to shield the glare of the broken sunlight Septon Meribald narrowed his eyes and realizes that there were two figures on the lead horse, the first one was smaller and limp. The dark face of the second rider was panicked, and he tightly held the reins in his stiff hands.

“Help!” He yelled through the crisp, cold air to the old man. Septon Maribald put his rough hands up slightly and nodded his head as the riders made it to him. The other men seemed only slightly concerned but the man at the lead was frantic. Maribald blinked, realizing that he was far from the warmth of the Summer Isles and his armor made it clear that he was no contract sellsword.

“I’m Septon Maribald what--” he was about to ask ‘what was all the panic about’ but he was quickly supplied with the answer. 

“She’s ill! She fell from her horse!”  Donho Quxdus said, his deep accented voice cracked. Maribald looked at the thin hooded figure in front of her escort, he could not see her obscured face due to her hood, but her cloak was covered in a thick layer of mud to suggest that she did in fact take a hard fall off of a running horse. “We are trying to get to the Quiet Isle-” Donho went to say and Meribald perked up at the mention of the isle that the was more than familiar with. 

“I can take you there,” he said. Donho was surprised at the old man's willingness to help them. “But not all of you.” his tired old eyes glanced up to the sellswords who seemed willing and ready to take orders. “The tide is out, and the way is dangerous, one misplaced step could mean death. I’ve seen the mud stir and swallow men alive. You have far too many horses and too many men. But I will take you, her and one of your other men to the Isle and the Elder Brother can tend to her, he'll know what do to."

Donho gnashed his teeth, not enjoying the idea of separating her from the protection that she had paid for but with the sound of Imani’s weak whimper made him decide that was his only choice.

“I’ll go with you.” Golden Company Serjeant Duncan Byrne said as his horse stepped forward. “The Panther paid us well to see that she gets to the isle and back, and we don’t break contracts,” he said to his mercenary brothers as he rubbed his thick red beard.

The other men didn’t seem too bothered by the prospect of waiting, the contact with the throne of Xe was not one they feared would be broken. So they did as they were told and agreed to wait and make camp as they watched the Summer Isle princess, her main shield and Serjeant Byrne follow the old Septon into the sudden thick fog dampened the air and ground. 

* * *

 

“Is the lady running a fever?” Septon Meribald asked as he extended his walking stick and pressed on the mud in front of him making sure it was steady before he continued to lead them through the muck marsh. 

"The Princess." Donho corrected, as he pressed his cold hand to Imani’s damp cheek, her skin giving off heat like a low flame. "Aye,” He left his hand on her face in an attempt to relieve her of her internal warmth. “She isn’t used to travel like this.” 

“It isn’t the travel.” Meribald shook his head. “I’m sure she just has a common flux that we are used to here in Westeros or maybe she bad food but…,” he paused and poked at another patch of ground again. “I’m sure the cold is not making it any easier on her.”

Donho could feel Imani’s body trembling slightly as she whimpered like a sick child. The onslaught was sudden, and he first time he noticed anything strange was that very morning.  He had watched as she rode beside him, teeth chattering a moment later she went limp, eyes rolling in the back of her head before she slipped right off her horse face first in the mud. 

“What in the Seven could make a Summer Isle girl--"

"Princess." Donho correct again, this time with bite.

Meribald nodded and then continued. "What could make a Summer Isle princess come all the way so close to winter?” Meribald, asked and Serjeant Byrne let out a low chuckle. 

Most of the sellswords had joked on how this was the easiest money they had ever earned. To escort a princess to find a man, no bloodshed, no murder and the pay was well worth the time. They had not been explicitly told who Princess Imani Xe was searching for but once a few exiled knights who had spent time in King’s Landing saw the helmet that she rode with the contract became a little bit more interesting. They wondered what in the hells could such a woman want with a snarling dog? A few of her swords had memories of him, not personal ones but the kind of lingering mental pictures of Sandor Clegane that involved him and killing. Always with gnashed teeth, blood coating his hands.

“She is looking for someone, that is all I can say.” Donho uttered, Meribald nodded not willing to poke at the subject too much and they continued along. Imani, uttering softly to herself his last name. 

‘Clegane...Clegane….Clegane….please.’

* * *

The dwellers of the Quiet Isle were just that, quiet men. Spending time on the small isle to atone for their sins as silent, simple monks to Seven. To them, the silence was a sacrifice to the Gods, a sign of devotion. Once crude, vile men now held their tongues, only uttering words to confess. A simple vow to show the change of their character.

Through the deathly silence, mud and fog a few of the Brothers saw flickering dark silhouettes off in the distance.

Imani coughed loudly as they approached, the feminine sound of her filling the thick air. It seemed like a very darling place from what her bearly conscious eyes could make out. There were fields, the air smelt full and marshy. There was a windmill turning breeze, somewhere off int the distance a sheep let out a bah, and there were small cottages that shaped like stone beehives. The moved through a small grove of apple trees and passed a stable.

Donho noticed a large black ominous horse inside, an obvious animal of war. The beast slipped it snout past the wood slats of the stable door and sniffed deeply as they moved past it. He could see the horses big black eyes, like polished marbles watching them, the animals perceptiveness was unsettling. It was far too human like, opening its nostrils wide as if recalling a certain smell in the space around them. With a whimper, Imani turned her hooded head towards the huffing sounds of the stallion. With a blink, her brows twitched and she reached one weak hand up and pointed.

“My princess? What is it?” Donho asked, started by her frantic gesturing as they moved further from the stable. 

“Th-the-that horse--” Imani stuttered as they road past. Driven by determination and the foolish dizziness that her illness caused her brain, Imani gritted her teeth and jumped off of Donho’s horse and took off running backwards the wooden stable.

“Noysed Parpel!” Donho yelled but she ignored him, in a frantic fevered fit. She knew that horse, that huge black fearsome creature. The memory of accompanying her sister and Joffrey on their hunt in the King’s Wood. The recollection of her laughs as she bobbed up and down on the back of that same horse, Sandor behind her holding the reins, the sunlight shining down through the green leaves of the high trees in the peak of the Westerori summer. 

_ “I absolutely hate being on a horse with a barbarian like you.” she chuckled, her voice low and breathy so only he could hear. _

_ “You’re a horrible liar, my lady.”  _

Yet, before Imani could reach the stable doors to see if the horse there was actually the one she knew to be called Stranger. She was overwhelmed with a sudden, sickly numbing feeling in her face as if all the blood had drained from it and her weak legs gave out unable to handle her weight. Saliva pooled in her mouth and with a heave she vomited up bile and fell to the dirt, her body violently convulsing. 

She heard Donho yell her name but he sound far away, as if at the end of a deep, dark tunnel. Through the illness that was currently wracking her body, she was only vaguely aware of the hooded, brown robed figures what were approaching her quickly. She felt, rather than saw Donho at her side before he quickly grabbed her and held her as she twitched and shook. His scented yells slicing through the silence as he begged for someone to help. With her damp face pressed against Donho’s armored chest, Imani shuttered, her lips twitching as she kept lurching with sweaty upheavals. From her flickering black eyes, she saw the figure of a large man approaching. He was carrying a shovel before the yells and commotion caused him to drop it to the dirt. Imani’s eyes rolled in the back of her head, blacking her vision for a split second before they rolled back down and poorly refocused. 

The large man walked with a limp and the hood and length of wool on his lower face only showed his eyes. Donho looked up and stared in the direction of the tall lame man, and he seemed almost started to see his foreign face, stepping slightly back as if the wind had just gotten knocked out if him. He franticly blinked before running as fast as he could towards them. With only a deep grunt the monk snatched Imani’s limp twitching body from Donho’s arms, like pulling a delicate petal from a flower. Her hood slipped from her head causing his shadowy eyes to widened. Even while clouded by the convolutions, bile and aging memories Imani knew the feeling of those arms, those large hands. Her mouth was agape while she looked up at the monk as she struggled to stay conscious as the brownish bile steamed from her lips like something from a horror nightmare.

With the last bit of strength, she had in the moment Imani reached up and pulled away the length of wool and exposed his face.  Silent tears filled her eyes and spilled over as she stared back at the younger brother, the lost dog, The Hound… Sandor Clegane. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took so long to get up. I rewrote this like five times.


	39. Chapter 39

Every few moments he would check to make sure he wasn't dreaming or hallucinating, because it didn’t seem real. There she was, living, breathing right there; the summer darling, the black panther, the only golden flicker of his life, Imani Xe. It didn’t seem possible, yet she was exactly how he remembered her. He almost thought that his heart would somehow rip from his chest when he had seen the Summer Island man holding someone in his arms by the stables. Somehow he simply knew that it was her before he even saw her face as if he could feel her raiding presence. He felt as if he had shaken to his marrow when her head tilted back, while in his arms and her face was exposed from her dropping hood. The emotion that first made its way through his mind was pure, white shock, then dizzy bewilderment that was ringing with ‘how’s?’, then finally the piss yellow color of fear when she started to shake violently. The bile seeping from her kissed long ago lips made his thoughts snap backward to a nightmare.

 

 _Sticky nectar spilled from Imani’s lips like sweet bile as she raised his sword, flickers of eerie green light dancing on the wet, slick surface of her black eyes._  
 _“We know where the heart is, do you?” she garbled through the thick mango smelling sap that oozed from her mouth before she brought the sword down, the blade breaking through his armor, flesh, muscle, and bone...bleeding him dry._  

 

She had come to him lips with running with the sweet nectar of mangos, but ill vomit and his heart felt as if she had thrust a sword into his chest when the thought of seeing her for a single moment before she slipped into darkness terrified him more than whitest and hottest flame of the Seven Hells, but it seemed that The Mother had mercy for her and him.

Sandor had figured that the image of her that he held so dear was actually a distortion, a romanticized her version of the actual woman that had danced and giggled inside of his mind for years. He thought maybe his mind had exaggerated certain features, over darkening her skin and eyes, imagining that her hair was longer than it actually had been and that the hills over her collar bones had not truly been so visible. But those things were actual, she was just as dark as he recalled, the buttery smooth, deep mahogany of her summer skin had been real. Her black braided hair was a true black, as black as the night sky and the delicate body was just as he dreamed a thousand times. It was if not even a day had passed, not a line nor crease marked her still youthful face. Just as perfect, black and golden as she had been in King’s Landing years ago. Yet she had traded her silken gowns for leather armor, daggers, and gloves with sharp claws.

The dim candle light flickered matching the dance that her eyes did behind their dimly purpled lids. He sat there beside her, watching as her now unarmored chest would rise and fall with each of her shallow breaths. She had been in and out of consciousness, opening her dazed eyes for just long enough so the Elder Brother could tend to her illness. It was obvious that as quick as her brief moments of lucidity came they were gone once again when she closed her eyes and slipped back into her deep, fevered dreams. The sickness that she had was usual and called ‘the two-day illness’ by commoners. Most people would only develop only a cough and possibly chills but her Summer Isle body wasn’t prepared for it, lighting her with a fever, aches, and a trembling shake. But the Elder Brother had healing hands and could bring even people close to death from the brink. Curing Imani of her illness had been simple and with rest the color had returned to her face, bright and beautiful. Her skin now only giving off its normal glowing warmth without the burn of a fever.

Imani groaned slightly in her sleep as she slowly turned her head towards him, her dancing eyes still closed. His heart wobbled in his broad chest, and his nerves stood on end as a sudden wave of anxiousness rippled through him. Her legs moved under the pelt that covered her, he remembered how she would do the same movements in her sleep when next to him right before she awoke. For a fleeting second, he was scared to face her. Years and years of longing were about to end, it should have been comforting but the uncertainty of what would happen sent a shiver of fear deep into his gut.

Slowly her eyes opened, and Sandor swallowed hard when she blinked and looked straight at him. Cutting him with those same daggering eyes as times before, looking into him rather than at him. There had always been something about her deep, dark stare that could put him on edge. Those onyx eyes having more power than the tip of a sword or a blade of an ax. Imani was emotionless for a second but that slice of time seemed to drag for hours for Sandor. Her black stardust stare took in his features and he could visibly see her eyes move across his face, eyes, hair, burns, eyes, burns, nose, mouth, then eyes again. With a drop of her jaw she let out a small squeak from the back of the throat and a flicker of the candle later Imani had pushed herself out of the bed and in one fluid movement she poured like hot honey into his arms.

Instantly, the long gone glow in his spine was a light again at the feeling of her pressed hard against him. Delicate limbs, panting mouth, her thin fingers clenching onto him as tight as panthers bite. With a sharp inhale of his breath, Sandor's large hand worked the thin silk of her tunic up and down, his palms finally slipping up under the fabric to feel the smooth, perfect skin of her warm back. His senses were a flame, he never thought he would ever hold her again, or smell the bright scent of her hair, but there she really was, palpitating and breathing against him.

“Sandor…” Imani whispered and he wanted to say her name but the word had got caught in his throat. The Elder Brother had been so kind to grant him relief from his vow of silence so he could speak her when she awoke but just then he couldn’t form the two simple syllables of her flowery name that had been a secret and a prayer on his lips for years. “Oh, my Sandor…” she brushed her face against his chest and fluttered her eyes closed. Just at the sound of her saying his name made his cock grow almost painfully hard. That unique kind of lust, deep and wickedly red that only she could create and tease out of him. He had almost forgotten how she could make him feel and Sandor tried to will his body to behave.

Imani reached up with one hand to gently touched the burnt side of his face, her soft fingertips drew a low sign from him. His lips were twitching to speak but before they could Imani crushed her mouth against his. The sudden taste of her saliva sent another and almost violent quiver to his groin. With crazed hands, Imani reached up and tightened her fingers in his brown, wavy hair as she kissed him desperately. Her needy tongue slipping against his.

Sandor let out a groan, his cock so hard that it felt as if it would split. One of his large hands had made its way to her front, running up her flat belly to her cloth brassiere covered breast. He could feel his heartbeat pounding away in his crotch and every bit of him wanted to throw her down onto the bed and fuck her like he had dreamed. He wanted to rip her tunic apart and tear the seams of her leather riding pants to find and fill the cunt that had ruled his mind for so long. But to Imani’s surprise and slight dismay he slowly removed his hands from up under her tunic and pulled away from her mouth. A profane and obscene line of spit connecting their lips before he wiped it away. Imani tilted her head in slight confusion as he stared at her. She could see that something was different about him, not just the physical changes. How he looked older now, slight lines on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes, the few gray hairs that were scattered throughout his brown hair and thick full beard. He even looked slightly thinner than she remembered. Yet, there was something else as well, a calmness that she didn’t expect to see in his eyes.

“My Lady,” he finally said, his rough voice caused her to coil in dark places that he had pleased once. Sandor took her face in his hands and ran his thumb across her full, wet lips. She gave him a look of the purest tenderness, a look that most men would go through life without seeing once. Every part of him wanted to kiss her again but he knew that if he did he would not be able to stop. "You really should get back in bed,” he whispered.

Imani blinked rapidly in bewilderment. “I--is--is that all you have to say to me?” She stammered, tears threating on the surface of her eyes. Sandor's lip twitched with a quick but shallow smile as he shook his head before scooping her up in his large arms and laying her back down on the feather bed.

“No, far from it, but you need to rest. Your little Westerosi manhunt took a lot out of you,” he pulled the pelt over her and as he went to stand up Imani whined and reached out for him.

“No, you can’t go I--”

Sandor took her by her clammy limp hand, "I’m not going anywhere,” he went to let her hand go but stopped when he saw the bright tan of her palm, and a long scar the blemished it. He lowered his brow and made a face that was more familiar to her as he stared at the raised scar.

“Impossible…” he uttered remembering that terrifyingly vivid vision of her that came through his dreams.

 

_Her mahogany and silk body only covered with a the pelt of a skinned panther, the eyes of the large cat had been replaced by shimmering golden jewels. Her gentle face was painted, one deep purple line down the center and it seemed that she smeared some from the bottom of her eyes down her face with her fingers. A top her dark head was a crown of purple iridescent flowers shaped like five-pointed stars, unlike any he had ever seen._

_Everything about her seemed far realer and accurate than he could have ever envisioned with the power of his own mind. Licking his dry lips, his gaze dropped to her right hand to see that it was bleeding. The crimson drops dripping to the reflective ground. As Imani or what seemed to be her crept closer to him, noticed in her night eyes what seemed like two pinpricks of light dancing in them._

_She grabbed his face with her bloodied hand, smearing it crimson._

_“Stannis is coming, the city might fall, and you…” she paused and shook her head. “...Might die. I will pray for you.”_

 

“That was no dream,” he traced the mark with his finger and then narrowed his eyes. "How?"

Imani offered a tiny almost dark smile that he had never seen from her before, it was something wise and just shy of wicked. “Old dark things that my lady mother knew.” She slowly pulled her hand away. Sandor eyed her and saw a woman who knew and understood things that he could never imagine, like him Imani Xe had changed. Even thought she was physically the exact same girl he remembered the young cat was now a full grown panther that had fangs of her own. He sat down on the edge of the bed and they were both silent for a moment before he spoke lowly.

“I tried to make it to you.” There was the clear ping of defeat in his voice. “After Blackwater, after that dream, I realized that I should have left with you when you asked me to.” He looked away from her and over to the orange flickering candle “I don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

“How did you find me?” he asking gazing back at her.

Imani giggled girlishly and bit her bottom lip, once again causing his rod to throb. “You don’t think a ruler has her ways? Birds from Essos to The Westerland, but if you must know it was The Spider, Lord Varys that kept me informed about you.”

“Why would Varys care?” What he knew of The Spider, was that he didn’t do things out of kindness only for something in return.

“He had his reasons,” was all Imani gave him. The lover in her wished to tell him everything but the ruler in her kept necessary secrets.

“Why did you come all this way?” Sandor asked her, trying to understand what had gone through her mind to make such a journey. “After what I did to you, why?"

Imani looked down and sniffled. “I will tell you the honest truth if you tell me why you hurt me so,” she looked up at him, the wet, salty streams that ran down her cheeks tugged at every inch of his unwithered heart.

 

_“It might not be tonight, it might not be tomorrow, but one-day little brother, I will take what I want.”_

_“You're a stupid girl, and I don’t want to see you again.”_

 

“Because I was a fucking coward,” Sandor whispered, shame oily and black in his gut. “Gregor, he saw us together one night and...." Sandor paused and let out a deep, weighted sigh. "He threatened to rape you." Just the words leaving his mouth made him sick. “I knew that one day he would make due on that promise, he always does and I was sure that if you had anything to do with me he would. So, I felt that I had to hurt you to save you from that.”

Imani sniffled and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

“There, you have the truth, you know that I’m a coward who was too scared to face my older brother for you.”

“Why couldn’t you just tell me that?”

“You think The Hound would have ever admitted fear?” Sandor asked and Imani knew that right, he would never have told her the truth. In his dark mind, it made more sense to crush her, leave her in sharp emotional shambles but at least, she would safe from the horrible Mountain “I want the truth now, you crossed seas, you put yourself in danger to find me, why?"

Imani’s eyes darted up to his face and then back down as she nervously picked at the fur pelt with one hand. Her mouth went cotton dry as she grew nervous, her belly twisting and coiling with nervousness.

“I --" she stopped to clear her throat. "I should have written you when I had the chance,” she tucked one of her braids behind her ear. "But I lost the nerve and I was worried that someone else would find out..." Imani's hands were visibly shaking as she gathered her words. “When I--I was--” she now picked at her sweaty palm and changed her wording. “I didn’t know it but...when I left King’s Landing I was with child.”

Sandor didn’t react, at first, not sure if he heard her correctly. He blinked quickly once the weight of her words hit him. He parted his lips, leaned forward slightly only to sit back in the chair right after. The room was painfully silent for a long, slow moment.

“I’m a father?” he asked, sounding as if he was trying to understand what those series of strung together words meant. Imani only slowly nodded.

“Aye, Sandor you have a daughter,” she said, her voice cracking as she started to sob. “I--I had to tell you somehow, and I know I should I wrote you but I thought it would distract you from your duty and I--” she brought her knees to her chest and shivered with a cry. “When I heard you were alive after fleeing King's Landing and might be here I had to come to see you once more time and tell you that you have a child. I couldn't bare another moment with that secret in my chest."

Sandor just stared at her with surprise, the idea that while he served and killed in King’s Landing she was alone with a swollen belly. While she brought his child into the world that he was most likely blackout drunk somewhere from trying to drink away his self-hate and pain.

“She has your eyes, Sandor,” Imani whispered. “She’s going to be tall and fearless like you too. She asks about you, she wants to know of her father. She is a lovely child, my darling. Princess Mereya of Isle Omboru and The Westerlands, born of The Panther and The Hound.”

Suddenly Imani heard him make a sound that she had never heard come from him ever before, a sob. He felt nothing but heavy guilt in that moment. Having hurt the hurt the only person to care for him even though all his sin and foulness. He had crushed her love for him through the hateful claws of The Hound and when she retreated back home she had to suffer not only the emotional pain he had caused but physical as well. The agony of birthing the child of the man who had broken her heart.

“No…” he uttered. “Not of The Hound. The Hound is dead." He glanced up at Imani and shook his head. “Do you remember when you would tell me that I wasn't The Hound?"

 

_"No, your name is Sandor Clegane."_

 

“You finally listened to me.” Imani smiled through her tears. Knowing that she was seeing the real man under the steel and hatefulness. He had always been there, and in moments, she would catch a glance of the real him. In silent moments in his chambers when he would run his hand up and down her naked skin, she would taste him sometimes when he kissed her with a gentleness that seemed impossible and she could hear him when he rarely, but actually laughed and smiled.

“Aye, I guess I did but now I’m not the man you knew back then. I know you a bit of you liked my violence.”

Imani bit her lip and he noticed that her hips slightly writhed with a dark delight. It was true, there was something about The Hound that sent a throb between her brown thighs.

“Aye, but my love was not for the beast but for the man.” Imani said sitting up and to face him, their lips just shy of brushing. “You already know that, Clegane. You’ve known that for years.” Suddenly he reached up and grabbed her by her face and kissed her hard, just how she remembered. Her hand inched towards his lap, gripping his cock as it grew stiff from the taste of her mouth. Sandor let out a groan and pulled away from her and shook his head.

“My lady, you don’t know me anymore.” Sandor whispered hotly against her full lips.

“Then let me...and let our child know you too.” she spoke, staring into his eyes as if it was the last time she would, preparing herself to leave him. “I want you to come with me like I asked you to do so long ago. Back then, The Hound was the one that refused me,” her delicate hand slightly moved up and down on his cock, causing him to bite his lip. “So I ask, what will Sandor Clegane do? I will not beg you, for Noysed Parpel, The High Panther begs for no one. Not even you. So, Clegane what do you chose?"   
  



	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now what you all have been waiting for...

The door was bolted, but still the sound of moans could still be heard from behind the Goldenwood. Imani’s head tilted up with a hissing moan as Sandor yanked her by her long braids. The Swan Ship swayed from side to side, still in the Gulltown port waters. Her hot, greedy hands yanked at the laces of his breeches in frantic determination. It had been the first time that they had actually touched each other. The whole ride back from the Quiet Isle to Gulltown had been chaste, even though they were in warm proximity to each other, Imani riding on his horse in front of him, her back to his large chest. She had never envisioned their reunion being so chilly, but now there in her ship quarters, she had no doubt that his beastly lust was still burning blisteringly bright for her.

Sandor kissed her, hard. His mouth savoring the fresh mint leave taste of her saliva. How he missed sipping from her lips, the graze of her pink tongue on his. Just the simple bush of her full lips was enough to send a crystal clear shiver all the way down into his loins. Much to Sandor's his delight, he had found that Imani in some ways was still very much the same girl that had played in his mind for years. Still retaining that certain charm about her when she was being demanding, that ‘high-lady’ attitude that he despised in most other women, but with her it was somehow sickeningly alluring to him. 

When they had been on horseback, she had taken his large hand, slipped it under her cloak and placed his fingertips right against her leather covered cunt. Sandor was very aware of what his summer princess was playing at, testing him to see if he still wanted that part of her. He did, that he did, more than she could ever understand but not there, not in that moment under the gloomy sky and rain. His throbbing darling would have to wait just a bit longer.

_"Not yet."_   he had whispered hotly in her ear, but now he had her right where he wanted. Fully alone, to touch her in the ways that he dreamed of doing again for so long. Now on her grandiose Swan Ship, 'The Whisper' that as wall Summer Isle, gold, and purple sails. Sandor felt those metal claws come out, the snarling lips becoming made known, and he knew that even though he had changed a hint and glimmer of The Hound was still there for her alone. He pinned her against the wooden wall, drawing a wet needy moan from the back of her throat as he continued to kiss her roughly. He caught her tongue between his lips and vulgarly sucked on it, causing Imani to wriggle.  Her hot hand slipped into his trousers grabbing a hold of his rock hard, throbbing cock.

“Mmmm I want it so bad.” Imani moaned, running her finger across the head that was already drooling with pre-seed “It seems you do too.” 

Sandor let out a low, dark chuckle as his hands worked to undo the buckles of her armor “Oh my princess, you have no fucking idea." The pieces of  leather armor hit the floor with sporadic smacks, finally leaving her only in her tunic and breeches. Sandor said nothing before he reached his large hands up and ripped open her tunic. It fell to her feet in tatters, her  simple brassiere now the single thing that hid her breast from his starving shadowy eyes. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, reaching one hand out to touch the soft curve of her hip before he moved his hands quickly and yanked on her brassier, it joined her tunic on the floor. He eyed those same brown, smooth breast that he had sucked, licked and kissed so many times.

Imani smiled wickedly and pinched one of her nipples. “Are you going to just stare at them all night, Clegane?” she asked before letting out a loud yelp as he suddenly picked her up, threw her over his broad shoulder and walked over to the bed. He plopped her down and she let out the same hot giggle that caused him to stir so long ago. Sandor pinned her down and took one of her brown nipples into his mouth

“Ahhh-” Imani whimpered as he sucked and flicked his tongue.

“I see you still like having your tits played with.” he chuckled before licking his way over to the other one moving to the other one.

“Very much so.” Imani’s body twitched and shivered under the feeling of his lip as he played with her, sucking and licking. He pulled away with a smack, leaving her tits glistening with spit. 

“Take these off, “ he pulled at her riding trousers. They heard a few of the crewmen yell something above on the desk and the ship rocked as they left the port. Imani slipped her legs out of her breaches and kicked them off to the floor. With a smirk Sandor groaned when he saw that she wore nothing underneath, she still hated wearing undergarments. Heat flooded Imani’s dark cheeks and she pressed her legs together shyly as she fluttered her lashes and looked up at him. Sandor stared down at her, one hand stroking himself under his trousers, profanely licking his top lip.

“Show me. I need to see that twat.” 

Imani chewed her lip and slowly parted her brown thighs to expose herself to him. Bright pink in contrast to her skin, and dripping wet, just how he remembered it. 

“I’ve  dreamed about that cunt a thousand times.” Sandor moaned, his hand still working at his cock, vigorously now. 

“Is that so?” Imani purred with a playful smirk 

“Aye, now show me all of it, spread it open.” Sandor demanded as he pulled hs trousers down. Imani bit her lip seeing his thick, long cock for the first time in years, his hardness seemed  if it would be uncomfortable. The head a deep angry purple, seeping with clear pre-cum, which the site of made her mouth water, she wanted to taste it again. For a second her eyes darted over to the scar on his thigh, the injury that now caused him to walk with a limp. Yet, that didn't matter to her at all.  She did as he had requested and pulled her lower lips apart obscenely revealing herself to his gaze.

“Oh..fuck.” Sandor groaned, stroking himself faster and faster. Imani slipped two fingers inside and started slick them in and out.

“You like watching me fuck myself, Sandor? “ 

“Aye…” he felt the tightening in his lower abdomen, and his hips bucked once then twice before he threw his head back, a string of obscenities spilling from his lips as he shot his white, warm seed, staining the sheets with his mess. He had came so hard that he suddenly felt dizzy, his cock throbbing a few more times in his palm with aftershocks. Sandor looked back down to see that Imani had scooped up some of his seed and was sucking it off her thin fingers, humming at the taste of him.

“Seven Hells, woman…”

“Hum...you had to get that out I see,” she purred, licking her lips, her other fingers still inside of her dripping cunt

“Aye, if I had fucked you I don’t think I would have got more than two strokes before I painted your pretty cunny white.” He got up and grabbed her by her thin ankles. “Now, come here and let me taste that twat.”

Imani rippled with a laugh as he yanked her to the edge of the bed and got on his knees. Imani panted, feeling his rough beard as it raked against her smooth inner thigh. 

"Mm. I’ve always liked the smell of you.” Sandor whispered, before putting his mouth to her. Imani almost yelped at the feeling of his tongue as ran it across the swollen bud. She could feel the vibrations of his laugh as he devoured her, licking in that sloppy way that she had always adored, coating his lips with her wetness, groaning at the flavor of her nectar. Sandor slipped two fingers inside of her, working them as he continued to lick and suck at her cunt. Imani sat up on her elbows, mouth a slack, eyes clenched shut, toes curling into the sheets. 

“Like that! Like that!” she panted, reaching down and grabbing a handful of his brown hair to keep him in place. Sandor had dreamt of that taste, that slick, smooth feeling in his mouth. He loved wine, he loved ale but Imani's pussy was the thing he had yearned for the most. He kept his eyes on her, watching her expression twist the closer she got, gnashed teeth, lowered brows. “Ah---fuck----fuck---” Imani’s body involved in a sudden onslaught, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she screamed his name so loud that Sandor was sure that everyone on the ship must have heard her, that thought gave him a glow of satisfaction. The Dog could still get the High Panther to yelp his name. Imani plopped down her eyes focusing on the ceiling of her ship quarters. Sandor pulled away and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. 

“I can still make you come I see,” he said standing up, getting fully undressed. 

“Mmm. I didn't have any doubt that you could.” Imani flickered her eyes over to him, to see him standing there his cock erect again his large palm. “Oh hard again?” she smiled.

“Of course my princess, I plan on fucking you sore while we're on this ship. By the time we get to the Summer Isles you won't be able to walk. ” Sandor said from behind his clenched teeth, he pushed her legs up before slipping into her with one, hard thrust. Imani screamed again, her body taken by surprise at the sudden stretching but as soon as the pain came it was gone. Sandor held her down, her legs resting on his shoulders as he stroked roughly in and out of her.  “Is this what you’ve wanted?” 

“Aye! Aye!” Imani squeaked, the force of his thrusts causing her tits to bounce. The wet, crude sounds of him fucking her filled the room as well as the loud banging of the bed frame as he hit the wall. Neither of them were even remotely aware of the rocking and swaying of the ship, lost to the long awaited feel of each other. Sandor suddenly pulled out, he laid on his back and pulled her on top of him. Imani bit her lip as she slipped is cock back inside of her, and started to ride him. Her nails raked down his chest, leaving sharp red marks but he didn’t flinch at the sting. Imani leaned forward to kiss him, shoving her tongue into his mouth. Sandor slapped her ass hard as she continued to ride him. There was a sudden jolt of pain that hit him when Imani bit his lip, hard drawing  bit of blood. She pulled away with a wicked smirk, a bit of crimson staining her mouth as well. Sandor snarled and grabbed her by her hips, and started thrust up into her.

“Oh, my Gods!” Imani screamed, grabbing onto his forearms for support.

“Is this what you fucking want?” Sandor hissed, watching as her eyes once again slipped to the back of her head.

“Aye! Aye! Oh! Sandor!” she choked. “Fuck me!” her nails dug into the skin of his arms and her mouth dropped open. The pressure inside was building with each push of his hips. Sandor felt her clench around his cock, squeezing it as she slurred what he knew was nonsense. Imani wasn’t aware of anything minus the feeling of him deep inside of her. Sandor didn’t stop, still holding her in place, leaving her helpless to the movement of his hips. Each push better than the last. “Do--it--do it inside.” Imani whispered breathlessly, looking heavy-lidded and dazed, a line of drool dripping from her full lips. “I - I want to fill me with it.” her breathy words were enough to tip him over the edge. 

Sandor clenched his jaw, “Uhg fucking fuck! Ahh Imani!” he moaned, as his cock throbbed and twitched inside of her. Imani let out a pleased sigh, feeling him empty himself deep inside of her. Sandor held her there, not wanting to pull out until he was sure he had no more to give her. To Imani’s surprise, he kissed her gently afterward, both of them panting a light with afterglow. With a sweet hum and a smile, Imani lifted herself off of him, his seed dripping out and onto his slowly softening cock. The sight made Sandor let out a deep throating groan.

“Look at the mess you made.” Imani said a she got off of the bed and walked over to the wash basin, Sandor didn’t speak his eyes watching a drip of whiteness as it trailed from her cunt down her inner thigh. He stared at the back of her, the plum brown ass, the indent of her spine, the sharp shoulder blades.

“Perfect,” he whispered, thinking out loud. Imani turned to look at him as she cleaned herself up.

“What did you say?”

Sandor’s lips twitched and he let out a sigh, “I said you’re perfect.” 

Imani beamed with a smile and she walked back over to him, the rag still in hand. She cleaned him up as well, before carelessly tossing the rag to the floor. She laid down, resting her head on his chest and they didn’t speak only the sounds of the ship and seagulls breaking the warm silence. Sandor was running his fingertips along her upper arm as Imani stoked at his dark chest hair. 

“You were right.” Sandor uttered, breaking the quiet.

“Humm?”

“About Westeros, that place it had never done anything good for me. I should have left years ago with you.” 

Imani lifted her head and stared at him, “Well you’re here now and that is all that matters.” she said with  the sweetest smile, as she gently stroked the burned side of his face, adoring to what he saw has his ugliness. Sandor sat up to face her, he took her hand and pressed it to his skin and closed his eyes.

“You have no idea the things I did so I could try to get to you.” he whispered. Imani blinked and tilted her head innocently. “I thought I was going to die without seeing you, at least one last fucking time. I had never been scared of death until you.” Sandor tensed his jaw, not sure how to voice the feelings that swelled in his chest in that single moment, for he had never voiced those words to anyone his whole life. Three words, that sat at the tip of his tongue yet the foreignness of them made him feel as if he couldn’t pronounce them.

“There is a secluded spot, riverside of The Red Keep, a stony, rocky overlook to the water. The way to it are slightly crumbling stone stairs. Do you know the place? I bet you do. Meet me there when the castle sleeps.” 

Imani blinked not sure of what he was referring to at first then she recalled slipping that very letter under his chamber door.

“I kept that letter, all this time and as I laid there what I thought my laid last moments I read again like I had hundreds of times…”

Imani’s lip quivered as she started to cry, at the idea of him keeping that simple note all this time., rereading it over and over again to torment himself for his actions.

“That night, in the gardens after that feast I knew then that ...I knew then that I loved you.” He whispered lowly. This words felt as if they hit Imani right in the center of her gut, she sniffed and cried even harder. “I couldn't go another second without telling you that at least once.”

Sandor was suddenly enveloped in her warm embrace as she pressed her damp teary face into his chest and quivered with sobs. 

“Oh my darling...you know that I love you more than the stars,” she whispered, and Sandor ran his hand up her smooth naked back, and for the first time in his horrible life he knew that he was going to happy.

  
"Now that's out of the way...." He slipped his fingers between her legs, and Imani gasped in surprise. "I was serious about fucking you sore, my princess."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more full chapter and then an epilogue.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get ready, this chapter is long as fuck!

The ship had been sailing for a month, that long at sea could make any man yearn for land. Yet, the feeling of Imani in bed next to him, warm, radiating health and her nymph like glow made Sandor forget about the sway of the ship and the water that surrounded them for miles and miles. They had done nothing at all for the whole thirty some odd days. Not that there was much for a princess and her ‘paramour’ to do on the lengthy journey, from cold sea to warm waters. They had laid in bed, lazy and limp, the tips of her thin fingers tracing the battle scars he had. Almost every night she would find a new one and asked for him to tell her the story of how he came to get it. The injury she had seemed most interested in was the one that now caused him to limp, although his lameness bothered her none.

They would eat, mostly freshly caught fish, and even though there were forks and knives Sandor would watch Imani pick at her food with her fingers, even that somehow was charming to him. She would wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, her mundane movements still intrigued him horribly, almost painfully. She didn't have to part her thighs to excite him. Watching her eat lemon cakes in bed, the icing sticky on her lips was enough to fill his mind with deviant thoughts. They drank dark plum wine, the flavor of which made the wine and ale from King’s Landing seem like slop. Yet, most all they fucked. Most days it had proved pointless for Imani to even get dressed for her clothing would eventually find the floor again. He couldn't keep his claws off of her, greedily grabbing at her breasts, fingers slipping into her cunt, lips coated with her wetness. They both were sure the crew heard them, her screams, his grunts, the bangging of the hardwood headboard slamming violently against the wall as he fucked her senseless.  Sandor’s neck and chest were riddled with her love bites, red, hot lines marked his back from her kitten claws. The lewd warm smell of sex and wine thick behind the ever locked chamber door.

In one silent moment while they were still panting for breath Imani had told him how she had seen ‘His Little Bird.’ The mention of the name was jarring, and even more surprising was the calm look in Imani's black eyes as told him how she had seen Sansa Starks face in his mind.

" _I put my lips to her’s and kissed her for you,"_ she had whispered to him as her hand snuck under the sheet. _"I know you wanted to...she is rather beautiful."_

The idea of them so close, one blisteringly hot the other cold as northern ice. The flickering images their lips touching made Sandor harder than he had expected to be and Imani only purred as she gripped his cock in her warm palm.  His lips had trembled, wanting to ask about the dark ways of seeing across seas, and into minds. Questions for answers that even if he got in truth he knew he wouldn’t understand. Yet, he forgot about wanting to know when she stoked him in her warm hand.

* * *

There was the sound of weighty thuds on the narrow wooden stairs as he walked up to the deck. The hot, bright glow of the sun hit him harshly, warming his body under his old and heavy steel armor that, which now wore the scrapes and chips from his fight with big ol’ Brienne. The above sky was cloudless, just an endless perfect stretch of light blue as far as he could see. The water glittered, crystal clear like sapphires and  the sea wasn’t a stir; calm, peaceful as they sailed.

“Fuck it’s hot,”  he rasped as he wiped sweat from his forehead. The weather was hotter than anything he had ever experienced in Westeros. Summers in King’s Landing could get rather warm and muggy, but nothing like the heat in the south. 

He put one hand up to shield his eyes from the sun and looked to his right to see Imani as she stood near the railing at the edge of the deck. Sandor licked his lips, instantly liking the bright orange gown on her. It was smooth and made of silk and his eyes traced her exposed back. A smirk tweaked at the side of his lip as he eyed the indent of her darling spine and the blades of her shoulders under her perfect dark skin, the same lovely bones that he had kissed and nipped at just the night before. The golden rings that were fixed into her black braids caught the light, making them flicker with each moment of her head. Sandor walked towards her, more aware of his limping walk due to his heavy armor. He reached out his large hand and stroked the small of Imani’s smooth back causing her to giggle girlishly as she glanced over her shoulder at him.

“You’re finally awake,” she said, before her eyes widened at the sight of his old armor.  “Oh…” she turned around to face him and ran her fingers along the steel studs that were embedded in the leather. He watched her bite her her bottom lip and peak up at him from under her long lashes. “I always liked this on you, Clegane.” 

He let out a sort of grunting chuckle at her as his eyes admired the outlines of her nipples under her thin gown.

“But...you know you don’t have to wear it here,” the inflection of her voice was a suggestion that she didn’t want him to actually listen to. He knew she _really_  liked his armor.

“Aye, but..” Sandor pulled at his gorget to adjust the fit of it around his neck. “I figured it would make an impression,” his deep tone mostly sarcastic.

“That you will.” Imani said, before turning to look back out to the water, she went to park her lips to speak but instead let out a squeak when Sandor grabbed a greedy and full of her ass. 

“We should have stayed in bed, don’t you think?” He growled in her ear as he slowly started to lift the front of her skirt, ignoring the members of the crew and the steel swords which were on the deck, talking and gambling now carefree because their contract had been fulfilled and would soon be paid.

“You had me three times last night,” she moaned, as he pressed his hard cock against her. 

"And what's your point, my princess?” Sandor slipped his hand under her skirt, one finger slipping inside of her. Imani gasped and threw her head back, her fingers gripping at the polished wood railing. “If I were any other man and I tried to touch you like this? What would you do?” He asked as he played with her slowly, almost teasing.

“I - I would have the guards take your hand and--” she was cut short by him putting another finger into her.

“That's a forgiving punishment, most would have a man killed for such disgusting behavior." Sandor moved his fingers in and out quicker, enjoying the moans that left her lips.

“Ah--I’m not  _most._ ” Imani panted, as she looked up and saw the shores of Isle Omboru in the blue distance. “Ah--there,” she reached out and pointed. “There’s home.” 

Sandor glanced up and could make out the white  sand and the lush greenery at the shore. “Aye, well then I should be quick about it.”

Imani almost screamed when he moved his fingers in and out quickly, arching her back he a whimper bubble up from the back of her throat. 

“It’s taking everything for me not to fuck your pretty, little cunt right here.” Sandor whispered darkly. He slipped his fingers out of her cunt and started to rub the bud right above her slit. A few of the crewmen yelled out things in their native tongue and the sails slightly turned west. 

Imani covered her mouth to stop from crying out loud. “Look at you, making a mess all over my fingers," he growled, grabbing one of her breasts with his other hand. 

"I want to hear you come."

Imani dropped her hand from her mouth and panted, wiggling her ass against him.

"Ah--is this-- ahh--better?" 

"Aye, now," he rubbed her faster. "Let me hear those pretty sounds you make."

Imani arched her back and grabbed his wrist as she clenched her teeth. A hot groan slipping from her mouth, followed by shallow quick pants.  Sandor snickered at the quivering of her thighs and the sigh as she came down from her quick but sparking orgasm. 

He removed his hand from under her skirt and crudely sucked his fingers clean. Imani turned to face him, lids heavy from satisfaction.

"Good to know that you're still utterly disgusting," she purred. Sandor grabbed her by her hips and pulled her close to him, making her feel his hard cock against her belly.

"I think that means you are just as disgusting for liking it," he growled and Imani lets out a loud, hot, laugh and wiggled in his grip.

“My Princess,"  Donho’s voice called suddenly. Imani playfully smacked Sandor's hands away before looking to see Donho striding up to them, one hand lazily resting on the hilt of his sheathed curved sword. He rubbed his beard glanced up quickly at Sandor and simply nodded his head at him in a curt greeting. 

“Aye, what is it?” Imani asked, now regaining her ruler calm.

“We should be arriving in port soon.” Just as Donho spoke they all heard the chime of loud bells in the distance announcing their princesses return. With narrowed eyes Sandor started back towards the island not daring to speak of the knot in his gut.

* * *

 

There were brightly dressed figures standing at the dock as their boat took them to shore. Imani wore a  lowered brow expression on her face like none that he had ever seen from her, one hand gripping the pole of her bladed staff, the other clenched into a fist in her lap. Her body language had changed, sitting upright, head up, shoulders down, the stance of a monarch. His mind had never fully pictured her giving orders or handing out sentences. To him and his massive strength Imani was delicate as thin glass, a soft winged butterfly that could shatter from the slightest pressure. Yet, her face and body in the moment proved him wrong, and he knew then she had commanded and demanded respect.  With a snap of her black eyes, Imani caught him staring and her expression relaxed at his gaze.

“Lords, ladies, my sisters and members of my council will greet us," she said. Usual for a high house, that was something he was used to, being Joffrey's shield he had been by his side while greeting members of other houses. Imani pursed her lips and let out a sigh “Shaman Mother Hoza Xomo is going to have a look at you.”

Sandor raised his thick eyebrow slowly, “A look at me?”

“It’s a tradition, any outsiders that will live behind our palace walls must be okayed by the shaman. I guess you could say they are like your maesters.”

“You are aware that most people fear me."

Imani chuckled slightly and shook her head. “Shaman Mother, fearing you? No, she’s dance with death and dabbled in the darkest magic, you'll be like a kitten to her.”

“Well, she sounds like my kind of woman," his words made Imani laugh.

“Aye, and you know that we Summer Islanders don’t scare easily. My sister wasn't scared nor intimidated by Joffrey or Cersei and I was never scared of you."

They made it to shore and Imani got out of out of the boat first, and as soon as her sandaled feet touched the and her greeters bowed all at once. Sandor stepped out behind her, his massive height at her back made a few people gasp in shock as they looked up at him with wide dark eyes. He didn’t flinch, he was more that used to that reaction. His eyes found two familiar faces among the brightly colored strangers. Ekua and Asha Xe both stared at him, yet he could tell for very different reasons. Ekua looking frighteningly exactly the same, her sharp-featured face just as angled and stunning as she had been in King’s Landing, but he could tell by the way she glared at him with unblinking eyes that she was nothing less than angry with his presence there at her home. Little Lady Asha was now far from being little, she had bloomed now tall, her body had filled out into the shape of a woman rather than a girl.  She had a softer body than the sharp lines of her sisters but she was still snub-nosed, pouty-lipped beauty, and unlike her elder sister she shave him an honest smile.

“Bless the Gods for the safe return of our High Panther,” an old  woman said, her head adorned with bright feathers and thin-skinned neck decorated with bones.

“Bless the Gods,”  The others said. The old crone's deep, sunken gaze flickered to Sandor.

“You." she pointed at him with an almost skeletal finger.  "Step forward,” It wasn’t a request but a snapping demand.  Imani looked up at him and nodded, the knot in his gut returned as he did what the old shaman had asked of him. She in turned also moved closer to him, so close he could smell her. Her stare was unsettling as if she was looking into his bones, into soul trying to find what made him, him. “Speak your name, Westeroi.” 

“Sandor Clegane,” he grunted, feeling all of them watching him. Many sets of dark, glossy eyes studying and scrutinizing him.

“Your house is of three dogs, correct?”

“Aye,” he heard Imani slightly sigh beside him, but he didn’t look at her and kept his sight on the shaman. The crone oddly chattered her teeth and looked him up and down.

“They call you The Hound. You’re a killer, I can smell the blood on you and see it staining your hands."

“Aye.” A few of the watchers look at each other and there was a tiny ripple of whispers Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Imani slightly lift one hand and they all dropped silent again. “What you say is true, I have killed many but I’m no longer The Hound.” 

Shaman Mother Hoza Xomo’s lips twitched into a quick side smile before she reached up and to his surprised touched his burns at the side of his face with her bony, cold hand. “You have a fierce face, only fierce men can run with panther women,” she laughed her voice like white smoke. With a wave of her hand a servant girl stepped forward holding a golden blow with what was obviously thick, dark blood inside. The shaman dipped two of her fingers inside coating them.

“I have seen into you Sandor Clegane, I have accepted you place her and so have the Gods,” with a swipe of her finger she smeared a line of blood on his armor. Imani gripped his hand and give him a smile as  the guards went to lead them from the docks.

"Look up there," her pointed, and he saw the palace. It was like nothing he had ever seen, cut from pale sandstone, glinting in the bright, high sunlight. "Far different than your Red Keep.”

* * *

The common street that sat at the base of the palace was teeming, throbbing, alive with people. As crowded as the streets King's Landing but there was no trace of  the lingering smell of piss, shit, and rot that the northern capital had. Even though the street were  made of dirt they were clean.  Everything was bright to his eyes, the people that watched from their homes and shops were all dressed in shades of colors that he had never seen. Birds of paradise sung from palm trees, tweeting high and loud. Sandor looked up at the sounds of female whistles and saw three topless women looking out from a large window. Their high voices turning to sing something that he couldn’t understand.

“Ay! Ay! Noysed Parpel. Noysed Parpel Ay! Ay! Noysed Parpel.” The cheer rippled through the city streets as more people started to speak it. 

“What in seven hells are they saying?” he asked.

“They are calling me ‘High Panther' in our tongue." The melodic sound of the chant made Sandor realize that she was the kind of ruler that her people adored. There was not the contempt for the crown that had been in King’s Landing. He recalled the riot back in the capital, how the hungry peasants had hated Joffrey so much that they threw cow shit at him. That kind of detestment would have been unheard of here. He had only known poor rulers. The Mad King Aerys Targaryen the 2nd who was driven insane by the incest and inbreeding that the Targaryn's were known for. King Robert Baratheon who was well liked, but not by any stretch of the imagination a 'great king', some men were better at war than sitting on thrones. King Joffrey Baratheon, the little monster that he had protected. Joffrey had the makings of another mad king and would have destroyed the Seven Kingdoms if he had lived. Sandor wondered what he would have done if he had been there at Joffrey's wedding, would he have tried to save him? No, even if he could have stopped his death I wouldn't have. The boy deserved to die, one hundred times over.

A small, dark girl child who was watching the procession in front of her,  reached her tiny brown hand out towards Imani. Without a second thought, Imani plucked a red feather from her cloak and handed to the girl who beamed back a wide yet, shocked smile as she clutched the feather. Sandor had never held kindness as a good quality for a person in power, and in Westeros Imani's gentleness would have been seen as a weakness but there under the hot sun and palm trees it was powerful.

They had reached the smooth, stone stairs that led to the large Goldenwood doors of the palace.  There were high detailed pillars of alabaster stone and large, polished ebony panther statues with golden gems for eyes. Although smaller than the Red Keep the bright, white palace war far more breathtaking in appearance. The doors opened slowly and a cooler gust of air breezed past them as they stepped in. The first thing his eyes landed on was the large throne at the top of high stone stairs, not built of iron but spun from thick woven lines of gold. Purple gossamer banners hung gently from the high dome ceiling and the smell of spicy incense filled the muggy air. 

“Welcome,” Imani smiled as she handed off her staff to a servant boy who took it with a quick and silent bow.  Suddenly Ekua's voice filled the room with a slicing cut.

“Leave us,” her sister demanded of the other members of the processional. None of the lords or ladies dared to speak only leaving swiftly down the long, bright corridors that led deeper into the palace. Ekua snapped her head towards Sandor, her white teeth gritted tightly. “How dare you," she spat with all the venom she could muster and before Sandor could react she rushed towards him. 

She pulled her hand back, and then with the quick snap of her thin arm, Sandor felt a hard, stinging slap right across his face. For a flicker of a moment, a second the width of a human hair,  he forgot where he was, and who he was now. He curled his lip, the rage that he had tamed daring to lift to the surface and in that split-second if Ekua Xe had been anyone other than the sister of his Imani he would have knocked her teeth down her throat. Yet, just as quick as the anger came it was gone again, he would not then, not ever let The Hound come back even as tempting as it seemed.

“Ekua... enough,” Imani said, her tone low and serious but her older sister ignored her as if she was a child.

“How fucking dare you step foot on this island! Do you know what you did to her!?” Ekua screamed at him, her face twisting into an ugly snarl and in that moment, she resembled the animal of their house. If her hands had claws Sandor was sure she would have gutted him right then and there. He was shocked when she attempted to push him, although she lacked the strength to even move him an inch.

Asha let out a loud groan and threw her head back.

“Aye, I fucking know what’ve done, I don’t need you to remind me,” he hissed back.

“I’ve spent the last few years cleaning up her tears over you! You dismantled her, you destroyed her when all she did was love you and that is far more than you deserved!"

Sandor gritted his teeth but knew that she had every right to despise him, every right to hate his innermost lining  and that was the worst part. Even though he wanted to bark back at her, he couldn't, for all of her venom was born out love for her younger sister. On the ship when he had  asked Imani what happened to her during those years after King's Landing she had only spoken of her kingdom and their child. She had never let the conversations progress any further, not wanting to hint at the pain he caused her.

Ekua looked back at Imani and then to Asha as if looking for confirmation of her anger but the youngest Xe only shook her head and looked away. With an angry huff of hot breath, she took a step back from him, bottom lip quivering, hateful tears running down her cheeks. Oddly, he felt a type of jealousy for he didn't know what it was like to feel such a love from his own older brother. The fierceness of Ekua's love made it very clear to him that if he was ever to hurt Imani again, that she would be the type to attempt to kill him in his sleep.

Ekua looked at Imani and narrowed her eyes. "You keep your mad dog away from me." she hissed before she turned and stormed out of the throne room.  There was a beat of shocked silence and Sandor saw Imani as she turned her head slightly away, wiping fallen tears from her warm cheek. 

"That went better than I thought it would," Asha chimed, obviously in an attempt to lighten the horribly sour mood that Ekua had left behind like a fog. She looked up at Sandor with a half smile. "She went on and on about how she would kill you if she saw you again," 

"Asha!" Imani snapped, putting her head in one hand.

"Aye, a slap in the face is far better than a dagger in the gut."  Sandor grunted with a shrug. 

"Well, I'm glad you're here, Ser," Asha gave him the same studying look that she used to have as a younger girl.

"Still not a knight, little lady," he huffed, wiping his brow. Asha glanced at Imani, who gave her a tight-lipped expression before she looked back up at Sandor.

"No, you're not but, you'll be a prince," Asha said, before turning to leave as well.  The title dropped so suddenly like crashing glass caught Sandor off guard, yet  before he could even think too hard about that odd and almost ridiculous idea Imani reached down and took him by his large hand. She didn't look up at  his face for a moment, her eyes low. It was in moments like that, that Sandor fully recognized how tiny and delicate she was. Her small hand in his monstrous palm. Finally, she looked up, her eyes pooling with tears, with a blink they spilled down her cheek. He reached his other hand up and wiped them away.

"I must apologize for Ekua's reaction." 

"Nothing to apologize for,  she had every right to do far worse to me."

"She'll come around eventually," Imani said, tilting her head into his touch.

He shook his head and frowned,  "She doesn't have to," he hoped that maybe him, the real him, Sandor Clegane could make up for The Hounds mistakes, yet he couldn’t ask her sister to ever forgive him for the hurt he put her blood through.

Imani sniffed and let out a huff in an attempt to gather herself. "Well, now there is someone you have to meet," she said. Not many things filled him with fear, the list was short, three things. Fire, his brother and his almost dying thought that he would never see Imani ever again, but the realization that he was going to be face to face with his own child, that he would try to match her small features to his like a reflection on a pond, that terrified him. 

"What if I frighten her? What if she's scared of this?" he pointed at the burnt and mangled side of his face. Imani shook her head, a flicker of pity dancing across her features.

"Oh Sandor, she's like you, not much scares her. Now come." She led him past her golden throne and down a large corridor. The walls were covered in murals, women dressed in gold, men with curved blades, panthers killing lions, snakes, jaguars and devouring them.

Sandor's shadowy eyes watched as Imani reached out with one hand and brushed her fingertips along the smooth stone wall, her other hand leading him along. The high windows shined the summer sun down into the hall, the light reflecting off the smooth alabaster floor making it glow, the likes of which his Westerosi eyes had never seen. The bright beauty and vivid color of the islands made him feel as if his whole life had been lived in dim colors. That every memory he  had been nothing more than gray and horrid piss yellow.

They came to stop at a large wooden door that was embellished with gold. Sandor's gut knotted and twisted with a thick and oily nervousness. His face didn't show it, but his palms were clammy with sweat.   With a quick glance over her shoulder, Imani gave him a comforting smile before she reached for the handle and opened the door. 

Bright sunlight from a far wall window stung his eyes and he blinked quickly to readjust his vision, and there sitting on the floor in the center of the bedchamber was a child. He couldn't see her face, at first, her hair dangling like a curtain. Deep black of hair just like her lady mother, it was curly in loose coils, his waves combined with Imani's wooly and coarse texture. The small girl was clad in a green silk frock, barefoot, deeply tan and humming to herself as she played with a doll with black skin and red lips. She was completely unaware of their presence in her doorway until Imani called out to her.

"Mereya, my darling." 

At the sound of her mother's voice, the child looked up quickly and Sandor felt as if he had been punched in the center of his the chest by the sight of her face. She had his eyes, the makings of his strong nose, her mother's lips, but there was something else there, something that he could never recall due to pain. It was then, in his own daughter's face did he see his sister's smile. No matter how hard he tried over the years he could never imagine her, her face washed away like running ink in the rain. He had put her away, put her in a cage after her death, and even as a young boy had known what Gregor had done to her.  Yet, in that slice of a moment that seemed infinite, finall, he could see his sister again, in the small face of his first born. Sandor took a step back, overwhelmed and put one hand over his mouth as Mereya hopped up so fast that she almost fell over her own feet. 

"Yanisa!" she said, what he could only assume was 'Mother' or a greeting in their native tongue. Her high baby voice like a clear crystal ping in his once twisted heart. She clattered to Imani arms outstretched, tall for her age but, all thin limbs like her mother and aunts. There was something boyish about the way she moved that made him think about Arya.  Mereya didn't seem to notice him, her eyes fixed on Imani as she ran up and hugged her tightly. She was babbling quickly, eyes wide and smile on her face. Telling her mother something that she deemed very important in her child mind. Suddenly her words stopped quick and short as  her eyes flickered behind Imani's skirt and finally she looked up at him. Catching her eyes for the first time made his hands shake, and he had trouble understanding the feelings that he felt in that exact moment. Awe? 

"Mereya there is someone you should meet," Imani spoke softly in the common tongue, as she stroked her daughter's beautiful hair. Mereya's eyes darted across his face. Eyes that were like hers, his burn that she didn't flinch at, the nose that one day she would have, his lips then lower to his armor as if trying to make sense of someone so strange and foreign. With a tilt of her head, a reaction that she obviously inherited from her mother she looked back in his eyes. Sandor didn't dare move in fear that he would frighten her if he did. Yet, the child didn't hide in front of her mother as he thought she would instead, she took a small step towards him, with a confused and curious expression.  To his surprise, Mereya stepped right up to him and started reaching for his armor.

She said something again that he couldn't understand to her mother, and he looked up at Imani expecting her to translate but she only laughed. 

"Who are you? Why are you so pale?" Mereya asked, taking him by surprise that she already knew his language. Her hand still reaching up for his armor. "What are you wearing? Are you a giant?" The excitable questions rattled off her tongue in her high voice.

"He comes from beyond the sea to the North," Imani spoke, putting her hand on Mereya's head again. "He comes from a land of knights, steel, kings and the cold."

A flicker of sudden realization came across the girl's face, she parted her lips and her eyes went wide. "I told you about him many times,"

Mereya let out a dramatic, squeaky gasp, but then lowered her brow and frowned, _his frown_.

"But mama, he doesn't look like a dog at all!" she said with the innocence of a child who really thought that her father was a beast made of steel. Sandor shocked himself when he let out a laugh, not a chuckle, not a snicker but a real hearty laugh.

"Of course, he's not a dog, he's a man," Imani said shaking her head at her child. Sandor bent down to his knees as to be close to face to face with the girl, and she still didn't flinch away, only reaching out to touch his hair.

"What's your name?" her other hand poking at the steel of his vambrace.

"Sandor...Sandor Clegane," he said lowly.

"Are you staying here or are you going back to the cold?" 

Sandor felt tears prick his eyes, as he looked at her. He had no idea that such a beautiful creature could come from him. He knew that he would kill again for her, yet what father wouldn't kill for his daughter?

"Aye, I'm staying."

Mereya's smiled even harder before she reached out her other hand and touched his scars, her expression changing to worry. Sandor thought he would die just then at the feeling of her small finger grazing his horrible burns, it was the single most touching thing he had ever experienced. 

"What happened?"

"I--I got burned a long time ago."   
She tilted her head, "Aw, I'm sorry," she uttered and without the slightest hesitation she hugged him. It felt as if the air had been sucked out of his lungs, at the feeling of her tiny embrace. The pricking tears finally gave way and trailed down his cheeks. Gently he hugged her back, taking care not to her hurt her with his monstrous strength. His body shook as he wrenched with a sob, everything he was or ever could be meant nothing, the only thing that mattered was that he was there. He reached up and tugged Imani down to the floor as well. He heard her let out a gentle, as he held onto them both. For the time, in all of his life, Sandor Clegane cried, not out of pain or self-hate but out of happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more full chapter, because everyone loves weddings, right?


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is long as fuck...

King’s Landing was still warm even though the fall was soon to come to an end. A breeze met the king’s mother as she stood on the balcony, a goblet to her lips. 'Lady Cersei Lannister' That was what she was now, no longer a queen; her title stolen from her by the grinning, pretty yet, snake-like Margaery Tyrell, but not for long. Cersei smiled to herself, disgustingly pleased with her plan that been working oh so well. She had put Margaery away, had her thrown in the black cells for her ‘crimes’ against the faith and soon, Cersei would regain her power once Margaery was gone. She could reenact her previous title as Queen Regent once she convinced the small council that Tommen still needed assistance ruling, clenching at her relevance for a little while longer.  
  
A weak knock at her chamber door pulled her away from her thoughts, “What?” she snapped.  
  
“You're grace. There was a raven for you.”

Cersei raised one eyebrow before moving towards the door, a scroll from Littlefinger perhaps? She opened the door to see one of her shy handmaidens. The girl handed over the tightly sealed scroll, and Cersei snatched it from her before slamming the door in her face. She looked at the seal, surprised when she recognized it, it wasn't one that she had ever expected to see again. Bright purple wax with flecks of gold embedded into it. There was only one high house in the world which would be so extravagant. She had always found them to be ostentatious and obnoxious with their gold, bright colors, and feathers.

“Xe…” Cersei whispered the name hadn’t been spoken in such a long time, years ago before the war, and before everything had gone so wrong. Cersei hadn’t noticed at the time, too clouded by her bitterness but the three sisters represented a simpler time in Westeros when her only worry was Joffrey marrying the youngest summer daughter. Cersei had despised young Asha for her what she assumed was the beginning flickers of cunningness, those perceptive long ebony eyes, and the way her late son had been drawn to the girl like a moth. Asha Xe had been traded for Sansa Stark and then finally for Margaery Tyrell the first and the latter sharing in their cleverness.

  
She pulled open the letter, curious as to what could cause the Xe’s to contact her. She was sure her letter to them in regards to her murderous imp brother would forever go unanswered as the Summer Islanders cared nothing for the demands of other kingdoms. Her light eyes flickered across the parchment, noticing the hand painted artwork that decorated it, all black panthers and what seemed like dark dogs.

  
_‘Members of House Lannister and House Baratheon we request the pleasure of your company at the marriage of Princess Imani Xe of Isle Omboru of The Panther Blood and Sandor---”_

Cersei stopped reading as soon as she saw his name.

“What?” she uttered, staring down at the parchment. She had to read it again to make sure she had read it correctly, and to make sure she wasn't going mad; she wasn't. "That the fuck?" Cersei was hit was a wave of confusion. Sandor Clegane, her late son's sworn shield for most of his life was alive and somehow was getting married to Imani Xe. Her bewilderment gave way to anger; she crumpled the invitation in her fist. They all remembered how The Hound had tucked tail and ran from the battle at The Blackwater.

_‘Fuck the Kingsguard, fuck the city, fuck the King.’_

He had abandoned his duty to protect her son and how her son was dead. The thought crossed her mind a lot, that maybe if the Hound had served his masters like he should have then maybe Joffrey could still be alive. The invitation was nothing more than an insult, a jab, a slash of a cut. "That little bitch..."

  
Cersei knew for sure that this as not The Hounds doing, but the High Panther herself. It was her spitting in the face of The Seven Kingdoms and making it known that the Summer Isles had no respect for the crown and was done out of petty veiled revenge for the house that once commanded him. Her daughter had been shipped off to Dorne, her oldest son was dead, and her youngest child had been married off to a little, smiling bitch and her father had been killed by the same horrible brother that had killed her mother. Yet, the mangled face hound was going to end up happy after he abandoned his sworn duty.

She had always known that the panther daughters had their own type pettiness, under-handed slights, and insults cleverly disguised as kindness or compliments. The invention was her way, behind an order of a quill stroke to say that the bounty on him meant nothing. That the man who protected her son since he was a child and still suffered Joffery's disrespect and insults was finally free. It wasn't a dogs place to question a prince's cruel demands, but now he was the prince. That to his new house, the Lannisters were nothing but cats of a different coat.

\---

Imani eyed her reflection in the large mirror in the early high morning light, as horned priestess from the temples of love tended to her freshly bathed and perfumed body. They served their twenty Gods and Goddesses of their religion the most relevant deities being of love, beauty, and fertility and for weddings, they came to honor the couple separately with the blessings.

“My princess, you look worried.” One of the priestesses said behind her golden lace veil as she applied coconut oil to Imani’s left arm. The beautiful holy women wore golden, detailed gowns that exposed their breasts, woven red bands around their necks, each one to indicate a year of servitude to their religion.

“Worried? No, I--” Imani signed and shook her head.

“Nervous?” spoke a woman who was kneeling in front of her, clippers in hand as she groomed Imani’s pubic hair.

“Aye, I think I am a little anxious,” her heart was a flutter and heat flooded her cheeks when she thought about how by the end of the night she would be wed. “I haven't seen him in weeks.”

The priestess all giggled at the words as continued to pamper her smooth brown body.

“My Princess that is the point. The tradition of Parnu is practiced so wedded couple can miss each other.” The woman moved to Imani’s other arm, massaging the oil into her flesh. “That way your wedding night can be an exhilarating affair.”

Imani couldn’t help but grin with gitty excitement the weeks away from Sandor been absolute torture as Parnu was more drastic due to him being an outsider. Anyone hailing from a culture so vastly different it was felt that before they could marry into noble houses, they must first learn their ways. He didn’t have to forsake his Westerosi culture nor his Seven Gods but had he to try to understand her culture.

Imani looked over her shoulder at the sound of the chamber doors opening. Asha and Ekua both stepped in, the both of them were already fully dressed and decorated in simple, yet stunning gowns of dark purple. Feathers plooming from their coiled hair and their traditional Xe purple face paint smeared across their foreheads and eyes.

“Get out.” Imani hissed at her siblings, annoyed that they both had stormed in without so much as a knock. As if she wasn’t the head of their family both Asha and Ekua ignored her.

“Oh, please. As if we would.” Euka said taking a seat on the converted silken lounger, careful not to wrinkle the fabric of her gown.

“Aye, you’re getting married today. Of course, we are going to help you get ready.” Asha stated. She paused, putting a finger to her chin and looked up. “Wait, what will be his official title be once you two are wed?”

“Prince Sandor Clegane of Westeros, born of Hounds, father of Panthers, husband of Princess Imani Xe of Isle Omboru.” Ekau said taking both of her sisters by surprise. She noticed their confused and stunned expressions, and she shrugged her shoulders. “What? You asked, and I answered.”

Asha let out a snorting laugh and fixed her hair in another mirror, “You know why we gave you that look, dear sister.”

“Look, they are getting married regardless of what I have to say so,” Ekua flicked her hand in a dismissive action and rolled her eyes. “It isn’t my place to question, I guess.” she stood up. “Now, Let’s hurry up and get this over with, “ she said rolling her eyes and putting her hand on her hip.

* * *

  
Under the ringing of the large bells, in the burning yellow summer sun, Imani Xe stepped out of her chariot. The four hands of her sisters holding the delicate bottom of her golden dress off of the lush grass. The bangles at her ankles chimed musically as she walked, shielding the sun from her eyes as she looked up to the large stone temple. The priestesses led her towards the steep stone steps, as they hummed and chanted.

  
Her white and gold gown kept little to the imagination, the low neckline almost cut to her navel. The thin fabric far from opaque, giving a taste of her brown flesh underneath. The only thing that stopped her from being exposed company were the woven in flecks of golden detailing that hid her breasts and crotch behind their precise placement. Her black braids were thickly piled atop her head, decorated with long dramatic feathers. The bright jewels at her neck glittered in the sun and the purple paint colored her face.

Imani let out a huff as they got closer and closer to the palace archway. Tt felt as if a hundred butterflies were trapped in her belly, tickling her with their gossamer wings. Her legs shook as she stepped up the mossy temple stairs. The sounds of the cicadas in the grass playing as music to her approach. Just through the large archway she saw the crowd of guests. For the wedding, only members of her house and houses connected by blood attended, although she knew the feast later would be far different. At the sound of the chanting, the guests turned around. Imani looked down, a certain flicker of indescribable anxiousness coming over her. She knew he was there standing right in front of the giant stone statues of their idols and temple altar. For some reason, she was scared to look up and meet his expression.

“Oh, my Gods?” Asha whispered, most likely thinking out loud. It was enough to force Imani to glance finally up and when she did she shared her sister’s reaction.

Standing there one hand lazily resting on the golden hilt of his new long sword. He still wore steel as Imani assumed, the light Summer Isle armor would have never been to Sandor’s liking. Yet, the new suit of steel and leather armor was smooth, bright and clean. Although parts were metal it didn’t look heavy, only protecting the most vital parts of his body. Under the crescent shoulder place and tasset were rigid purple feathers. On his injured, leg he wore a golden brace, a gift from her to ease his limp which looked surprising stunning against his new armor. Sandor would never wear his old clothing again as it was the tradition that the outsider who joined the family retained nothing of a foreign court. His black armor had been worn under gold and red Lannister banners and such could not be the wears of a Summer Isle prince. The only bit of his old life that had escaped the custom was The Hound's helmet, as it belonged to him no longer, gifted to his first born.

The thing that shocked her most about him as he stood there trim dark beard and as tall and towering as ever was his hair. It was pulled back, such a simple thing for any other man but for him it meant he wasn't attempting to hide burns any longer.

Iman’s sniffed, her eyes bricking with hot tears and she went to wipe them away, but Ekua stopped her because she would have ruined her face paint.

His face had held his usual expression, lowered brow, frowning mouth, not due to the situation but out habit. Yet, when he saw, her it felt as if he had be punched, hard in the gut. The bright sun behind her head, the gown releveling her brown silken skin, the red stained lips, the painted face. It was as if time had repeated itself, feeling the same stab that he felt due to her dark beauty that he had endured the first time that he laid eyes on her in the throne room at the Red Keep.

The priestess stepped aside and her sisters stopped, allowing her to walk towards him alone, giving her own self away. There was a small hush of whispers from the guests in regard to her bridal beauty has walked past them. The face paint had started to streak down her cheeks due to her salty tears as she reached him, Sandor held out his shaking hand and she took it, thin fingers in his massive palm.

They stared at each other for a beat, his eyes darted across her face then dipped to her breasts then back up again, causing her to giggle.

“In the view of the Gods and Goddesses, we bring and bind these two,” Shaman Mother Hoza Xomo started, and the temple fell silent. ‘These two souls, these two lovers in marriage.”

Imani gripped Sandor’s sweating hand and grinned up at him.

“Princess Imani Xe of Isle Omboru born of the Panther Blood do you offer yourself to this man?”

“A--” Imani’s word got stuck in her throat before she was able to speak “Aye.”

“Sandor Clegane of Westeros, born of hounds do you offer yourself to this woman?” She asked, and without a second's hesitation, he answered.

“Aye.”

“Then, the gods and goddesses have smiled upon you…” Hoza Xomo paused, and an almost dark smile came across her sunken face. “But will the panther?”

The guest let out a ripple of excited ‘oooo’s’ telling Sandor that they were aware of something that he wasn’t. He gave Imani a skeptical narrowed eye look, and she only offered him a smirk as a servant boy stepped forward with a golden bowl and handed it to her and she turned to the guest.

“It is said that the first Xe, our Great Father could shift into a panther at will and would devour the flesh of his enemies. The blood of the panthers run strong, and per creed of our old and great house, to become one with the High Panther one must take the blood of themselves.” Imani said her voice proudly filling the temple. Sandor's expression didn't give anything away, but he was taken off guard by the ritual. Imani turned to face him with a darkened expression. “Kneel,” she demanded, and he did. “When you rise, you will still be of dogs, but you will be worth of the title of ‘Prince’.

Sandor took a deep breath, as Imani put the bowl to his lips.

"Drink of us," she whispered, and at that moment as she loomed above him he could imagine her with a dagger in hand uttering words of blood magic. Members of house Xe chanted in unison.

The warm metallic smell hit him as she tilted the bowl back but Sandor refused to flinch once the thick blood hit is tongue. The chanting got louder, and Sandor glanced up to see Imani with a serious and focused expression. He didn’t gag as it slipped down his throat and without a single choke Sandor gulped the blood down as if it were nothing but rank ale.

Imani grinned proudly, pulling the bowl from his mouth and handed it back over to the servant boy. Silently Sandor looked up at her, the only indication of the disgusting taste that lingered on his tongue was his tight expression. His wife wiped his bloody lips with her hand before she spoke again.

“You may rise now, Prince Sandor Clegane.” 

* * *

  
Under palm trees and banners, those from as close as nearby islands and as far away from seas apart showed up to the wedding feast. Peoples from Lys, Myr, Andalos, Essos, and even as far as Yi Ti were there under the hot burning sun. There were even a few Dorinish banners that flew, much to Sandor’s surprise given his brother’s violent history with House Martell. Members of House Vaith, House Dalt, and House Santagar were in attendance at the feast. Princesses, princes lords, and ladies came to them with congratulations and blessings, and it was clear that even those from far off lands respected and adored his new wife, but they would fear him. Men greeted him with soft voices and lowered eyes; he didn't mind. Satisfied with the idea that to get to her one most go through him, and no one would dare do such a thing.

Ekua let out a long sigh and lifted her goblet in a sarcastic toast to no one “Prince Sandor Clegane,” she uttered before taking a sip.

“Are you going to stay so bitter and nasty?” Asha asked, rolling her eyes at her eldest sister as they sat at the head table, watching the guests enjoy themselves.

“Oh, hush up. I don’t have to like him.”

“No, but you have to to respect him.” Asha uttered. “He is your niece's father.” They both looked up to see little Mereya running in the grass, her hands and feet already dirty, gown practically ruined as she played with the sons and daughters of ladies and lords. “He is our sister's husband and from today on he is a prince and part of our family.” Asha let out a huff and then poured herself some wine. “You better get used to him, because I wouldn’t be surprised if our dear sister isn’t already pregnant with their second child.”

“Really? No, we would have noticed a change in her. “ Ekua dismissed.

“Well, if not I bet she will be by the end of tonight.” Asha looked down the table and smiled. “I mean, look at them…”  
Ekua glanced towards them as well and let out a small groan at the sight of the newly married couple. Imani had abandoned her chair and was perched on his massive lap, giggling as she fed him bits of mango with her fingers. Sandor whispered something obviously vulgar to her as she squeezed her thigh before kissing her.

“Ugh, I just hope they don’t keep the whole palace up with their lovemaking tonight.”

“I bet they’ll keep the whole island up,” Asha laughed.

Imani wriggled in Sandor’s lap as she sliced another mango, “Isn’t there some type wedding bedding thing that they do in the north?”

Sandor laughed and pressed his lips against her hot bare shoulder, “Aye, the bedding ceremony.”

“Why do they do it?” She asked taking a juicy bite of the fruit as she watched the barely clothed dancers in front of them.

“Well,” Sandor slipped one hand into her lap and rubbed her crotch slowly with his fingertips. “How else would anyone know if the marriage was,” he rubbed her a bit harder, causing Imani to moan slightly. “Consummated?”

“They watch them?”

“Not most of the time but I’ve heard of that happening. Most of the time the male guests carry the bride while female guests carry the groom leading them to the bedchamber.” Sandor whispered, his hand still working at her crotch. Imani groaned and parted her legs a bit further. “They pull them out of their clothing and then listen outside door yelling disgusting suggestions at the couple as they fuck.”

“That sounds very indecent,” Imani said, rocking her hips now feeling his hard cock poke at her ass. "Like what we’re doing right now.”

Sandor licked her shoulder blade, pushing his hips against her body to cause enjoyable pressure. He nipped at her skin, “By the time I’m done with your holes tonight you’re not going to be sure of your fucking name.”

Imani almost moaned out loud at his lewd words but caught herself. “Is that a promise, my prince?”

“Aye, my lovely wife.”

* * *

 

  
The feast showed no signs of stopping until the wee hours of the morning, but Sandor and Imani could no longer wait. In the dark, they slipped away and back into the palace. Sandor shut the door to the chamber and as soon as he did Imani was all over him, her hands yanking at the buckles of his armor. He picked her up and tossed her on the bed. Sandor yanked her by her ankles and flipped her on her belly. With clenched teeth he took a handful of her gown and tore it with ease, exposing her plump brown ass.

“Shame that was such a lovely gown,” he laughed before forcing her up on her knees.

“Did you have to ruin my wedding dress?” Imani asked, wiggling her ass. She yelped when Sandor smacked her on her bottom, leaving a hot sting behind.

“Aye, I did.”

Imani went to say something but stopped when she felt his tongue at her asshole. She breathlessly grumbled and tried to wriggle away but he held her by the hips.

“Don-don’t lick there.” Imani moaned, but she writhed her hips in pleasure.

“Do you remember when I did this to you before?” he asked, pulling away only for a second. She could vividly recall the memory; he had surprised her with it, causing her to yelp and try to swat him away but she gave into the feeling. Imani stifled a moan as he continued swirling his tongue. Her face was a heat with bashfulness, yet she couldn’t help the pleased wriggling of her hip. Sandor growled against her, using his fingertips to rub her wet cunt. He smirked to himself before he teasingly bit her right ass cheek, causing Imani to squeak in surprise. “Just say that you like having your tight ass licked.” Sandor uttered, now rubbing her asshole with his thumb.

“I..I like it...”

“What is ‘it’?” he asked undoing the straps of his chest plate.

“I like having my ass licked,” Imani said, with a hushed whimper.

“Hearing such disgusting things like that come from your pretty little mouth makes me so fucking hard.”  
  
Imani expected him to slam into her but instead he grabbed her by her ankle and turned her over on her back. She looked up at him, lips quivering as she wiggled in the silk sheets as she watched him undo the buckles that held on the plates of his armor. He didn’t let them clank to the polished stone floor, instead setting them down carefully before he let his wavy hair down. He undid the straps of his leg brace and removed it as well.

“I want you to fuck me.” Imani sighed as she pinched her hard nipples and tugged on them. Sandor didn’t say anything as he moved onto the bed, Imani blinked in confusion as he pulled her between his large legs, her back to his chest.

“Not yet.”

Sandor slipped two fingers into her cunt and Imani threw her head back as he moved them inside of her. He put his other hand on her lower abdomen and pressed.

“A--are you doing what I think you’re doing?” Imani moaned, hearing him chuckle deeply but he didn’t say anything, only moving his fingers faster and with more and more pressure. Imani bit her lip and grabbed onto the fabric of his breeches, her hips bucking with the rhythm of his fingers. She could feel his hard cock poking at her lower back, as he held her tight against him. “Ahh--w--wait--” Imani panted, the feeling starting to be almost too much. It was a profound and throbbing pleasure that made her toes curl into the sheets. She tried to pull his hand out of her but he was far too strong, he only offered her a snicker at her attempts. “S--Sandor--wait please.” Imani whimpered.

“No,” he said darkly. Imani’s eyes rolled in the back of her head, a line of drool dripping from her lips as her orgasm hit her like a violent sea wave. She choked out a scream. “Ohh fuck.” she heard Sandor moan through the haze of her ecstasy, but she was momentarily a lost to the world as her body twitched involuntarily. When the awareness of the world around her came back, Imani blinked down to see that the red silk sheets in front of her were wet.

“Oh..oh goodness..” Imani panted, knowing full well what she had just done. Female ejaculation was a sought after expertise that she had never had the pleasure of enjoying until then. She looked up at Sandor her face a light with heat. “How did you learn how to do that?” Imani asked, almost positive that most northerners were completely unaware that a woman’s body could do such a thing.

  
Sandor rubbed her pussy with his dripping wet fingers and gave her an utterly smug smirk. “Besides learning about your culture, I learned a few...other things.”

“I can tell.”

Sandor pulled his fingers away from her cunt and then tasted them, letting out a low growl. “I could drink your pussy wine all day.”

Imani let out a hot giggle at his crude words as he moved his legs and pushed her back down and she plopped down face up with a dreamy smile. “Now, my prince I think your sword needs a sheath.” she purred watching him unlace his breeches.

“Aye, this wedding needs a proper bedding,” he said, pulling his cock free. He rubbed the head along her slick slit before he slammed into her, filling her with one thrust. Imani yelped, her overly sensitive body quivering with another, tiny orgasm just at the feeling of cock pushing against the overly stimulated spot inside of her. “Gods, your pussy feel so good.” Sandor moaned as forced her legs up onto his shoulders, driving himself as deep as he could as he pounded into her. The bangles at her ankles chimed musically, and the heavy headboard of the grand bed slammed loudly against the wall.

“Just like that! Just like that!” Imani screamed, yanking and tugging at the sheets in a pleasured hysteria. She felt as if she was only made of sparking nerves that flicker in hypersensitivity. Imani lost herself when she felt him rub the swollen bud above her entrance. Her mouth twitched with nonsensical words as she came again. Sandor pulled out of her and forced her on her belly, and in hr dizzied delight she was unaware that he had grabbed the corked bottle of oil that she kept on her bedside for her skin. She was yanked out of her post orgasmic glow when she felt his slick fingers slip into her asshole. “Ahh!”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve fucked your ass,” Sandor said finger fucking her small hole. Imani whine into the sheets, loving the feeling.

“So tight,” he stroked his cock with his other hand watching her squirm.

“Fuck it, fuck my ass...please,” Imani begged.

“You’re so fucking bossy.” Sandor chuckled as he pulled his fingers out of her. Sandor coated his cock in oil before he slowly started to push himself inside. Imani winced at the slight pain and clenched the sheets as he stretched her asshole with his thick cock. In a gentle show of affection, he rubbed the small of her back as he pushed in fully. Sandor gnashed his teeth, letting out a deep throated moan as he slowly started to thrust, taking care not to hurt her.

“That's it--give it to me!” Imani yelped as he stroked into her faster.

“Is this what you want?” he drew his hand back and slapped her ass hard.

“Aye! Aye!”

He could feel the pressure building in his low abdomen; he was close...just a little more. He threw his head back, his nails digging into her skin as his hips bucked a few more times “Ughhh! Imani!” he hissed as his cock twitched deep inside of her, Sandor held her there until he emptied himself. Right when he let her go Imani’s legs gave out, and she plopped face down on the bed, catching hr breath before she slowly flipped over and smiled up at him. Her eyes like stardust, wearing a look of utter love as his cum seeped out of her.

“That was a good consummation.” she chuckled, looking dreamy and high. Sandor leaned down and kissed her on her damp, warm forehead.

“Aye, it was,” he said, his hand groping one of her tits. “Now, let me clean off and give me a bit and maybe we can give our daughter a little sibling.”

“Mmm...I would love that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only the epilogue left.


	43. The Epilouge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter.

Brightly colored birds off in the far away distance sung songs towards the blue unspeckled sky. Dragons had flown, The Wall had fell and Northern battles had raged, but their golden kingdom barely felt any of it. The horrors of the outside world beyond the archipelago of lush green islands were only felt like a light wind, a snapping twig, a sigh.

Wars that involved ice could not stretch as far to the Summer Sea. The Xe's promise to ‘back the coming of Red Dragon’ had was honored, as the Panther Mother was a woman of her word. Yet, no dragon, or wolf, or lion sat on the Iron Throne, as it's worth was as much copper coins. Westeros had no unifying king or queen, no courts, and no knights. King’s Landing had burned to a cinder, bloodlines had been eradicated, houses were left to rot to the memory of history along with the famed House Reyne of Castamere.

* * *

There was the sound of a lovely female sigh in the muggy air. At the breathy noise, Sandor’s protective eyes quickly darted to his wife’s round belly. From beside his princess' gold throne, Sandor Clegane stood, much like he had when protecting that long dead monster, Joffrey Baratheon. Prince was his title, but Sandor knew what his strengths were, guarding, protecting and battle. A politician he was not, yet during the great war that ravaged his home country, he had given his one and only political order.

The only change the Summer Isles had bitterly tasted in regards to the violence in  Westeros were those who had fled what they called ‘The Second Long Night’. Shiploads over Northerners had sailed in a desperate attempt to reach the warmth and safety of the islands. Unlike her sister islands which had been far more welcoming to the Westerosi, Isle Omboru’s borders were closed, and their navy protected the island from invaders on Sandor's iron-fisted demand.

The other noble families found his action to be cruel, but it proved to protect those under their black panther banners from the food shortage that the other Isles eventually suffered due to the influx of people.

From then on, Prince Sandor Clegane had earned the utter respect of the Summer Islanders from common folk to other noble families.

_ 'Ta Yasam Quatin Damen' _

'Our Fearless Hound Father' was what they called him now. 'Hound' the very thing he had been called once as an insult was now a term of utmost honor. Although, he ignored any and all praise for the decision, feeling that it was merely a reaction from all of his years of protecting and defending others. Sandor had spent a good amount of his life shielding someone he hated but now is skills safeguarded the place, people, and ruler that he cherished.

The bright sunlight glinted down from the high windows, filling the throne room with a  yellow glow. Even though he had seeded Summer children, and had lived in the warmth for a decade, every morning the light would make his Northern eyes water with its brilliance. He stared down at his wife; time had adored her. Her brown skin was still supple and smooth as butter, the only hit of the years that had the past were faint lines that rested in the corners of her long ebony eyes. It seemed impossible, yet she was just as agonizingly beautiful as she had been when he had first laid his, then violently eyes on her.  Imani sat there on her throne, her head topped with a crown of large purple feathers, dressed in a simple, bright red silken gown. Due to her, pregnancy, she had to abandon her detailed and dramatic dresses, favoring comfort over extravagance.

Imani put her small hand on her plump belly and made a pained face, writing slightly in her seat.

“What’s wrong?” he snapped, putting one large, armored hand on her bare shoulder.

“Nothing,” she winced, looking up at him as the members of their court stepped in to hear those who requested an audience with their rulers. “Your son is kicking me in my ribs,” Imani said, with a forced laugh as she rubbed her side.

Somehow even though he was older, he looked better, healthier and even more alluring to her. His hair had grown longer he kept it pulled back, stands of silver- gray now speckled his chestnut brown hair and scruffy beard. The wrinkles at the corners of his shadowy eyes had deepened, but there was a different look them, a warmth and unmistakable glint of confidence that he lacked so long ago. Not a single trace of self-loathing could be found on him. “This is the last one,” Imani said as she patted her tummy.

“We said that when we were on child six,” he chuckled, as he leaned down and touched her stomach. They both stayed silent for a moment until there was the unmistakable feeling of a kick. "Aye, she wants fucking out of there."

Imani scrunched her nose, "She? No, no, he."

Sandor raised one eyebrow and shook his head, "You look like you're carrying a girl," he bent down to her ear. "By the look of how fat your tits have gotten,"  he whispered hotly.  Imani grabbed up her folded hand fan from beside her and playfully whacked him in the arm for his crude comment.

"They are not that much bigger," Imani yelped, glancing at her breasts. Sandor bit his lip, staring down at the swollen swells of her dark tits and he swore he could see the faintest indents of his own teeth when he had bitten her there that very morning. His cock twitched at the thought.

“Good morning,” a voice said, Imani looked over to see Asha and her husband as the entered the throne room. The youngest sister still retained her uncomfortable perceptiveness, but now her talent of listening and watching and grown into something tactical.  Intelligence and information had become her playthings, no news from Westeros to the Jade Sea evaded the youngest Panther sister. Asha’s husband stood beside her silently. Azhar Tola was from a small noble family from the Isle of Birds; he was a thin, delicate man, with sharp cut cheekbones, and gray eyes. For all of his sickeningly handsomeness, he preferred to let his wife do most of the speaking. 

"My Princess, My Prince," he bowed, greeting both of them. He had a shockingly deep and graveled voice that didn't match his gentle appearance.  Imani smiled back, but Sandor only gave him a simple nod.  Imani rubbed her lips to hide a smirk; Sandor made it very known that he didn't particularly enjoy Azhar's company, finding him dull and in his own words 'drummer than a wad of hair.'

Asha did not react to the exchange, only taking her place at her sister's left and looked around at the court. 

"I hear grievances once the moon and Ekua know this. Where is she?"  Imani hissed, tapping her sandaled foot. Just then there was the loud sound of female giggles down the hallway.

"There she is," Asha smiled as Ekua, and her lover stepped into the hall, hand and hand both smiling wide and laughing it a private joke. Ekua had shocked everyone with her change, due to her paramour, Chema Quux. The two had fallen nauseatingly in love when Chema bed became one of Ekua's handmaiden. No one, not Imani, Sandor or Asha could understand how it possibly happened. Chema wasn't strikingly beautiful; with a  simple face, close-set eyes and a pug nose, yet somehow she managed to melt Ekua's bitter cold. Even though wildly in love, Ekua still honored her promise to never  marry again out of respect for her long dead husband and stillborn son. Chema did not mind in the single bit, simply happy to be with Ekua. They kissed quickly before Ekua stepped up the stairs and took her place next to Asha.

"Thank you for joining us," Sandor muttered sarcastically, giving Ekua a sideways glance.

"Of course, brother," she stung back, but their mocking tones were said in jest. Through the years, Ekua's sourness towards Sandor had melted. She had seen him laugh, watched his tender moments with Imani; how he would run his fingers along the ridges of her sister's spine, his eyes warm with fondness.  Seeing him with his children, being there as he bounced them on his large knee as he told them stories of the North. Witnessing those things had chipped away her hate for him. He would die for children and his wife, he would wage war for them, and if need be, he would become the vengeful, violent Hound again if that was the cost to protect them.

The door to the throne room opened, and those that wished to have an audience with their Noysed Parpel stepped in.  

"You step forward," Sandor demanded of the first person. The woman blinked quickly before moving in front of the throne; she bowed respectively.

"Why do you come before me?" Imani asked.

"My princess, my home is close to the jungle. It's just my small grandson and me out there, and there have been jaguars prowling about, killing the chickens that I raise for food. I'm scared; I can not fend them off." the old woman said, her hands shaking refusing to look up at the princess and prince."

"You are in their territory; we can not kill animals for wanting to eat,"

The woman looked up, tears pooling in her dark eyes. Imani signed and put her hand on her belly, and looked at the distraught old woman. 

"But given that you are an elder raising a small child alone, I will have men find you a home closer to the city," Imani said, and the woman smiled. "But you must be willing to provide the orphanage near your residence with chickens for free they need them for the children; that would be your payment." 

"Aye!" The woman nodded, "Thank you, Princess Imani," she bowed again before shuffling off.

"Next," Sandor called, and as soon as he saw the approaching person, he grabbed on to the handle of the long sword at his hip. It was evident the man was from Westeros. He was sallow in tattered clothing and was dirty.

"Princess," he spluttered moving too close to her throne for Sandor's comfort. The prince stepped in front of Imani, his golden armor catching the sunlight as he pulled out his sword, members of the court gasped when he pointed it at the man. "That's close enough, boy." Sandor looked over his shoulder at his wife, and she nodded, for him to handle this one. "You're a long way from home. Name?"

"Tommon," The man looked over his shoulder at the door, nervously and then back to Sandor.

"The hell are you doing here?"

"I--I was wrongly accused of a crime an--and I fled--I was hoping for asylum," Tommon said, his eyes darting twitching. "I ned pr--protection! Plese! I heard you people are kind and I--" he turned back around towards the door.

Sandor noticed and put one fist up, and the guards all reacted and drew their bows and turned to the door. " Jahar Zo," he called to the head guard. Jahar needed no orders; he quickly stepped in front of Asha and Ekua and drew his spear. "You flee, your kingdom,  bring your shit to my door, knowing that people are after you?" Sandor hissed stepping closer to Tommon, "I should behead you myself for the annoyance you are causing me," Suddenly the doors burst open, and the guards were ready to shoot, but they stopped when they saw only one young man. 

"Heads of House Xe," the man yelled putting his hands up when he saw the twenty polished and sharp arrows ready to fill him. Sandor saw that he had a scroll in his hands.

"Approach," he said, and the man trotted up to them, out of breath and sweating. Tomman looked back at Sandor and whimpered desperately.

"This man, Tomman Snow is wanted in the North for crimes of treason!" the second man, panted pointing at Tomman.

"Crimes against what Kingdom?" Imani asked, peeking from behind Sandor.

"Er, The North...North," he said awkwardly, not realizing that the Summer Islanders tended to call all of Westeros 'the north'.  Without warning Tomman took off running back towards the door but was quickly stopped dead when one of the guards stepped in front of him and kicked him right in the gut, knocking him to the mosaic tiled floor with a smack. The guards picked him up and restrained him.

"No! It's all lies!" Tomman screamed. Sandor took the scroll from the man and handed it to Imani and cautiously moved from in front of her, but his blade stayed drawn. Imani examined the scroll and noticed that the wax seal was that of a Direwolf.  Unrolling the scroll she went to stand up, needing Sandor's help to get on her feet.

"Princess Imani Xe of Isle Omburo. I have reason to believe that a man by the name of Tommon Snow as fled to your island. This man is wanted for high treason against The Northern houses for his involvement of the siege of Winterfell by House Bolton more than ten years ago," Imani paused and gave her husband a quick upward glance before she continued. "I have made it my demand that all bannermen, loyalist, and knights of House Bolton be put to the sword." 

The court members whispered and looked around at each other. 

"Well, this is exciting," Asha uttered.

"If this man is found I ask for him to be brought to justice. I understand that the Summer Isle people are kind hearted, who seek out no violence. If you do not wish to have his blood on your hands, I will only ask you to send him back to Westeros so he can face justice," Imani smiled slightly. "Signed, The Queen in The North, Sansa Stark." 

Sandor chuckled, "The Little Bird has a flame to her."

Imani handed the scroll off to Ekua and then stepped forward, "Not a bird, a wolf." 

"That was ten years ago! Ten years ago!" Tommon groveled.

"Silence!" Imani snapped, her pretty voice was crisp, like a sharp ping of glass, bladed and dangerous. "You come to my land, into my city, and into my palace. You take our gentle kindness as stupidity as if I would grant you anything just because you ask for it," she stepped down the stairs and moved towards him, Sandor following right beside her. "Maybe you should have tried with another house because here in my house we tend to have a bit more bite. We all know what the Bolton's did, I heard what Ramsey did to Sansa Stark. He took over her home; he raped her; he beat her," There were low shocked and appalled grumbles. "Rape is one of the most egregious crimes to us; we also do not take kindly to those who make excuses for rapists." Imani rubbed her belly as she contemplated what she should do. "Alas, I'm not from Westeros, but my prince is." 

Tommon looked up at Sandor, his eyes jittering and watery. 

"Aye, I'm a small house that has an infamous name, you may have heard of it. I am Sandor of House Clegane," he said his voice gritty and dark.

Tommon's mouth dropped open, and his eyes bulged out of his head.

"You're The Hound..."

"That he was," Imani looked up at Sandor. "How should we handle this? Council vote, court vote..."

"Aye, do you want to flip a fucking coin?" he said sarcastically. Imani smiled and rolled her eyes at him.

"No, that would be silly. It's up to you."

"Well, to send him all the way back to Winterfell we would need a ship, and men to escort him. That is too much fucking work. 

So, he serves justice here. Behead him."  Sandor said simply, and calmly. 

"No, please don't!" Tommon screamed as the guards grabbed him up and drug him away.

"Send his head to the Queen in The North, so she knows he's dead for sure," Years ago, Sandor remembered how Joffrey had taken Sansa up to the walls of King's Landing and made her look upon her father's head as it rotted on a pike. Now, she had the heads of her enemies. 

Imani let out a sigh and fanned herself off, "Well, now that was interesting, who's next?" 

* * *

Plates of freshly caught fish, crab, shrimp, nuts, sweet grass, vegetables, and fruits sat stacked on golden plates on the long Goldenwood table.  Instead of sitting at opposite ends of the table Imani sat on Sandor's large warm lap, idly wishing she could have a drink of the imported ale he was drinking, but she had to settle for the coconut water that was in her goblet.

"Every night it's the same thing, you would think children would like to eat, yet they are always late," right after Imani spoke they heard loud chattering from down the hall before the door opened and five of their six children walked in all talking very loud to each other. 

Jarack, was ten, the second oldest and he was what Sandor and Imani jokingly called their "Wedding consummation gift." He was his father's son through and through. They knew that one day he would share Sandor's height and build. He shared his face too, down to the lowered brow expression. Unlike his father Jarack had a splatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose, a trait that already the little girls of his age seemed to like.

Malal, was eight, a quiet boy who spoke only when he needed to speak. His silence was born out of shyness but rather he found more pleasure in watching and listening. He had wild coarse black hair and the Xe delicate body. He would be lanky all arms and legs, but aunt Ekua, with the cut of his face, high cheek bones, and narrowed ebony eyes. He was an undeniably a beautiful child and would make a striking man one day.

Taryne, was seven, and no one truly knew how her looks would fall when she got older. Either she would stay a homely little thing,  or it was possible that she would shock everyone and bloom into a flower, it could go either way. Her one shocking feature was her auburn hair, which she had gained from her Clegane aunt and grandmother. Out of all of their children, she looked the most Westerosi, with her wide-set eyes, pinched nose, and narrowed lips. Even though Taryne was plain-faced, she had her mother's charm was never said 'no' to.

The last two at age five were a surprise, twins Bhala and Salna. They shared almost identical round faces, their future features still hidden under pudgy, baby fat. Both of the twins favored their mother, through and through and could be mistaken as full Summer children, deeply dark, small and thick curly hair. The boy Bhala, was known for his crying and whining. He was a soft little thing that was content sleeping most of the time, and when he was awake, he clung to Imani's skirts and tugged at Sandor's trousers in need of their attention. Salna was far different; she was the mouth, saying whatever she wanted, whenever. Even at such a young age she had a humor about her and could make her parents laugh at her utter audacity.

"Mama!" Salna chirped in her birdy tone, "Is it true?"

"Is what true darling?" Imani asked, as two servant girls stepped in to assist the smaller children with getting up on to the rather tall legged chairs.

"We heard that father almost killed a man today," Jarack spoke sitting next to his parents. Sandor let out a loud laugh and shook his head.

"No, I didn't almost kill him. I sent him to face justice," 

"What did he do?" Taryne asked, grabbing a handful of shrimp. 

"He was guilty of a crime that you will learn about when you're all older," Imani told her children as she grabbed up food to make her and Sandor a shared platter.

The door opened again and in stepped their first born, their love child, Mereya. She had grown like a weed; having her mother's dainty bones but her father's massive height. She was devastatingly beautiful, but under the flowery lips and sparkling eyes was steel. Her long hair was kept in a sole thick braid, down her back. Unlike her siblings who were well dressed in an a ray of reds, golds and purples clothing made of the finest brocade and silk, she was not dressed for supper. Instead, Mereya wore her training gear, battered, black, hardened leather, trousers, boots and the Hound helm that once belonged to her father under one arm. As a child, she would knock herself silly, always covered in scrapes and bruises. A permanent raised scar from her rough housing was left through her right eyebrow.

"I know, I know. I'm supposed to be washed before supper," Mereya started before she sat down, "I didn't have time,"  she shrugged making a plate for herself.

"You smell," Taryne laughed at her older sister and Imani covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

"Aye, that is what happens when you actually go outside and do things,"  Mereya said, looking pleased with herself. 

"I saw Jarack sweet talking some girl today," Malal said not looking up from his plate as he carefully cut his fish into pieces. 

"Shut up!"  Jarack snapped, as he threw a strawberry at his brother. It almost hit Malal on his nose, but he blocked it was a lazy wave of one hand.

"Ahhh, who's the girl?" Sandor asked, his voice playfully teasing his first son. 

"No one," Jarack pouted and shrugged.

"Aw, don't be like that sweetling, if you like a girl there's nothing wrong with that, it's okay," Imani said, cutting up a mango. Sandor let out a small hum at the smell of the fruit and brushed his scratchy beard against her bare upper arm. 

"I don't like a girl; girls are nasty," Jarack said, still pouting his face turning red.

"No we're not!," Salna said, her mouth full of food.

"I'm a girl, does that make me nasty?" Imani asked as she fed Sandor the sticky squares of mango. Mereya rolled her eyes at her parent's displays of affection. 

"You're not a girl, you're a mother, it's not the same," 

"I don't like sweetgrass," down the table, little Bhala complained randomly as he looked down at his plate.

"Well, did you hear that Sandor, I'm not a girl," Imani said to him.

"I'm pretty sure you most definitely are; I would know," Sandor snickered, before he kissed her, the flavor of the mango still on his lips. 

"Ughhhh! Seven Hells! Please, we're eating you know," Mereya groaned dramatically, and Imani broke the kiss and laughed.

"Mama, will the baby be here soon?" Taryne asked.

"Just a little longer," Imani said, feeling Sandor's large hands on her belly. He pressed his lips against her bare back and kissed her sharp shoulder blade. Their children continued to chat loudly, but they both stayed silent, content and happy. 

* * *

 

The bed chamber was dim, only a few candles flickering and giving off weak orange glows. The sticky air smelt of wine and spicy incense. Sandor watched as Imani undid the straps of her simple red silken gown, it slipped off of her and piled at her bare feet.  He started at her naked body, although she was pregnant the only change that her body had was her now round stomach and swollen breasts. He didn't understand how her delicate frame managed to carry the extra weight of his children.

"Come here," he demanded, stroking his cock from under the silk sheets. Imani smiled and crawled into bed beside him, she reached up and ran her hand down his face gently; she went to speak, but his sudden and hard kiss stopped her. Imani moaned into Sandor's mouth, feeling his tongue graze against her's. The taste of the wine he had been drinking was still fresh on his lips. Imani let out a whimper as he grabbed her breasts with his greedy hands.

"Sandor..." she whispered in gentle protest as he pinched her nipples. He said nothing, only moving his lips from her mouth down to her neck, running his tongue along her smooth skin. 

"I could devour you," his voice holding the same dark wickedness that she fell in love with so many years ago. Sandor raked his teeth along the hot flesh of her raised collar bones. Imani's fist gripped at the bedsheet as she arched her back and signed into the muggy air. His lips came to her swollen breasts,  and Imani threw her head back when he took one of her nipples into his mouth.

"Oh!" she was over sensitive, due to her pregnancy and he knew it. He sucked gently, pinching her other nipple between his finger, groaning at the slightly sweet taste of her milk. Imani put one hand on the back of his head and held her to her tit, panting and writhing at the feeling of his tongue. Imani's back arched when she felt his hand leave her breast and slick between her legs. "Fuck!" He rubbed the swollen nub above her entrance but didn't slip a finger inside, instead teasing her. 

With a smack of his lips, he pulled away from her tit and looked up at her, "So wet already?"

"Aye, please-- I need it," Imani panted, wiggling her legs. Sandor chuckled before he pulled away and said on his back. He pulled away the bedsheet to expose his throbbing cock.

"Come and get it," he smirked. Imani bit her lip and carefully straddled his lap; cautiously she lowered herself onto him. "Ughhh," he moaned, as his cock slipped inside of her. Imani's eyes rolled into the back of her head at the very full feeling, and she gave herself a moment before she started to move. Slowly, her hips moved, grinding on him. Sandor put his hands on her hips to steady her. "Don't rush," he growled, but she ignored him, going a bit faster. 

"Ah-- it feels so good," she hissed, using her knees to bounce up and down on his cock. Sandor clenched his jaw and grabbed her tightly by her ass. 

"I'll never get enough of your cunt," he said, as Imani rested her hands on his chest, her nails clawing at his skin. He didn't wince at the sting, only growling at the feeling that was starting to stir in his lower abdomen.  

"Ah--Ah! Sandor!" Imani squeaked, suddenly rattled with her orgasm. Her cunt clenched around him, pulsing with a quick quiver. Dazed in pleasure, she rocked back and forth a few more times; mouth slack eyes closed before she shivered with an aftershock. In her pearl afterglow, she was only slightly aware that Sandor was gently maneuvering her into another position. Now on her side, Imani felt Sandor gently lift one of her legs before he slipped back into her.

"Ugh, fuck," he reached around and gently cupped her chin as he as pushed inside of her, taking care that he didn't trust too hard. With a pleased and wicked moan, Imani sucked on one of his fingers as he fucked her. "Mmm, you fucking like that?" 

"Hmmmmm hummm," Imani moaned. The wet, sounds of him stroking in and out of her filled the room, and Sandor's groans became louder and louder. He bit his lip before his hips jutted one more time. "Yesss, ahh," Imani panted, feeling his cum shoot inside of her with a pulsating throb. 

Sandor pulled out slowly and looked down, "Well, if you weren't already with child I would have just put one in you," he chuckled, watching his white pearlescent seed ooze out of her and onto the bedsheets. Imani flipped over on her back and stretched, eyes alight like stardust as she looked at him, her lover, her husband, her prince. 

"We need to stop getting on as much as we do,"

"Aye, I think seven is a good number," Sandor said. Imani smiled and then flipped back over on her said, and placed his hand on her belly. He rubbed it, only feeling low flutters under her skin. He tried to remember, what he felt like before her, yet the man that he used to seemed as faint as a flickering pinprick of light in an infinite black void. 

  
Sandor Clegane hated all the songs and stories which maidens sang and knights told. Tales of Summer Isle birds had been foolish fancies, yet somehow even through his year's hate and violence he found himself living in the very stories that he despised as a bitter man. Sandor brushed one of her long braids off of her dewy forehead and planted a kiss right on her brow before he blew out the bedside candle and fell to his dreams beside her.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for supporting this story from beginning to end! I'm happy you all enjoyed it. I might be doing a few one-shots and I have plans to write an AU- involving Sandor and Arya getting to the Summer Isles together.
> 
> Also, in a few days, I will post the master playlist for this story, so look for that! 
> 
> Once again, thank you so much for supporting this story! I love you guys!


	44. The Playlist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I made a master playlist for my fanfiction Playing Dangerous. This is almost every song I listened to while writing this story. I broke it up into parts to what songs fit with what parts of the story. Keep in mind some of the lyrics might not go with the story fully, but most of this playlist is about feeling and tone. I hope you enjoy this, no links but every song can be found on youtube.

_**Intro-** _

> 1\. Game of Thrones Theme 

_**First Sight- Chapter 1** _

> 2\. Once Upon A Time In America - Ennio Morricone

**_First Taste - Chapter 4_ **

> 3\. Bear, Bear The Maiden Fair
> 
> 4\. Playing Dangerous -  Lana Del Rel
> 
> 5 . The Hills - The Weeknd 

_**The Fling - Chapter 5 - 15** _

> 6\. Kings Of The Wild Frontier -Adam & The Ants
> 
> 7\. Often - The Weeknd
> 
> 8\. Coming Down - The Weeknd
> 
> 9\. National Anthem - Lana Del Rey
> 
> 10\. Video Games - Lana Del Rey
> 
> 11\. Freak - Lana Del Rey
> 
> 12\. Pyramids - Frank Ocean 
> 
> 13 . Thinkin’ Bout You - Frank Ocean
> 
> 14 . Every You And Every Me - Placebo

_**The Heartbreak- Chapter 16 - 17** _

> 15\. On The Nature of Daylight - Max Richter
> 
> 16 . All Cats Are Grey - The Cure
> 
> 17\. The Light & the Glass - Coheed and Cambria

**_The Returns A Princess - Chapter 17_ **

> 18\. Opus 23 - Dustin O’Halloran
> 
> 19 . Plainsong - The Cure

_**Drink Her Memory Away - Chapter 17 - 18** _

> 20\. Dark Side of Me - Coheed And Cambria
> 
> 21\. Swimming Pools - Kendrick Lamar
> 
> 22\. Chandelier - Sia
> 
> 23 . Al The Killer (Acoustic) - Coheed And Cambria

**_Hurt that was ~~born~~ , Reborn in his Ruined Heart. - Chapter 19_ **

> 24\. Technically, Missing - Tren Reznor
> 
> 25\. Lolita - Ennio Morricone

_**New Ruler - Chapter 20** _

> 26\. Castle - Halsey
> 
> 27\. Ghost - Halsey

_**The Vision from the Darkest Magic - Chapter 20** _

> 28 . Empty House - Air

_**Crawling Back To Her & Her Kingdom & The Longing  - Chapter 21 - 31** _

> 29\. All The Things She Said - t. A.T. u
> 
> 30\. Hold Me Down - Halsey
> 
> 31\. Third Eye (Demo) -  Florence + the Machine
> 
> 32\. Which Witch (Demo) -  Florence + the Machine
> 
> 33 .Queen of Peace -  Florence + the Machine
> 
> 34\. Evagria The Faithful -  Coheed And Cambria
> 
> 35\. The Hounds - The Protomen 

_**Not Dead Yet - Chapter 32 - 33** _

> 36\. Sentry The Defiant - Coheed and Cambria 

_**If He’s Alive I Will Find Him - Chapter 35 - 38** _

> 37 Which Witch (Demo) -  Florence + the Machine
> 
> 38\. To Glory - Two Steps From Hell.
> 
> 39\. Howling - Florence + the Machine

_**We Meet Again - Chapter 39** _

> 40 . Half of You - Cat Power
> 
> 41\. 2′s my Favorite Number 1 - Coheed and Cambria 

_**I Still Like the Way You Feel - Chapter 40** _

> 42 . Kiss it Better -Rihanna

_**Princess and Prince - Chapter 41 - 42** _

> 43\. Delilah - Florence + the Machine 
> 
> 44\. Third Eye - Florence + the Machine 

**_The Happy Ending - Epilogue_ **

> 45\.  Once Upon A Time In America - Ennio Morricone (reprise)


End file.
